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SKETCHES 



OF 



WESTERN ADVENTURE: 

CONTAINING AN 

ACCOUNT OF THE MOST INTERESTING INCIDENTS 

CONNECTED WITH THE SETTLEMENT OF 

THE WEST, FEOM 1755 TO 1794; 

WITH AN APPENDIX. 



BY JOHN A. M'CLUNG. 

— ALSO — 

Additional Sketches of Adventure, 

COMPILED BY THE PUBLISHERS, 

— AND — 

A BIOGRAPHY OF JOHN A. M'CLUNG, 



BY HENEY WALLER. 



COVINGTON, KY.: 
Published by Richard H. Collins & Co. 

1872. 



tS/f 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 



Portrait of Eev. John A. M'Clung, D.D Frontispiece. 

Boone and Findley's First View of Kentucky Page 46 

Capture of Boone and Callaway's Daughters " 53 

Patterson's Escape from the Battle of the Blue Licks... " 78 

" Simon Kenton saving the Life of Daniel Boone " 86 

John Slover hiding in the Grass from Indians " 147 

A Bear assists Downing to Escape from an Indian " 189 

v Mrs. Merril's Defense against a Midnight Attack " 197 

1 Messhawa rescues two Boys from Chickatommo " 226 

v Indian Woman revealing the Conspiracy of Pontiac " 328 

J Fearful Leap of Major Samuel McColloch " 368 



F.I.ECTROTYPED AT THE 

FRANKLIN TYPE FOUNDRY, 

CINCINNATI. 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 18T2, by 

RICHARD H. COLLINS & CO., 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 






2,1 



PEEFAOE. 

In these " latter days," when a rage for book making per- 
vades all ages, sexes, and conditions, it is scarcely necessary to 
offer the usual hackneyed apology, for what is modestly called 
"a trespass upon the patience of the public!" Should the book 
prove entertaining, and in some degree useful, no apology will 
be necessary — if otherwise, none will be received. I shall con- 
tent myself with referring distinctly to the sources from which 
the materials for this work have been derived, in order to give 
an opportunity of ascertaining its authenticity. 

For the correctness with which the adventures of Boone, 
Smith, and Johnston are detailed, I refer the reader to the 
printed narratives of each of those gentlemen. In the lii'e of 
Boone are many particulars relating to the siege of Bryant's 
Station and the battle of the Blue Licks which are not to be 
found in Boone's narrative. For some of these I am indebted 
to Mr. Marshall ; but most of them have been taken from a 
series of "Notes," which appeared, about 1830, in the Kentucky 
Gazette., and which were carefully taken down from the verbal 
communications of individuals who were actively engaged in 
those scenes. 

For the striking incidents attending the expedition of Craw- 
ford, I am indebted to the printed narrative of Knight and 
Slover, published immediately after their return to Virginia, 
when the affair was fresh in the recollection of hundreds, and 
any misstatement would instantly have been corrected. Ken- 
ton's adventures are taken from a manuscript account dictated 
by the pioneer himself, and now in the possession of Mr. John 
D. Taylor, of Washington, Ky. The adventures of Johonnet 
are from a printed account by himself, which appeared in 1791, 
immediately after the defeat of St. Clair; and those of Ken- 
nan, from his own account — which the author, in common with 
many others, has heard repeatedly from his own lips. For the 
rest I refer the reader generally to Metcalf'a collection, Mr. 
Withers' " Border Wars," and the "Notes on Kentucky," already 
mentioned. 

A small portion of the minor details have been gathered from 
personal conversation with the individuals concerned. I might 
have given a host of anecdotes, partaking strongly of the mar- 
velous, and some of them really worthy of being inserted, could 
I have been satisfied of their truth! But I have chosen to con- 
fine myself to^ those given upon unquestionable authority; and 
can conscientiously affirm, that I have admitted nothing which 
I myself, at the time, did not believe to be true. 

J. A. McC. 

(iii) 



PUBLTSHEES' PEEFACE TO THE EDITION OF 1872. 

The foregoing is the material portion of the Author's Pre- 
face to the original edition of these "Sketches of Western Ad- 
venture "—first published in 1832, by our father, Judge Lewis 
Collins, then editor of the Maysville (Ky.) Eagle; at whose 
instance the Sketches were written by the most gifted friend of 
his boyhood. Daniel Boone had been a resident of Maysville 
only a few years before Mr. C. settled there, and his relatives 
still lived there. Simon Kenton, William Kennan, James 
Ward, Charles Ward, Maj. Hugh McGary, Thomas Marshall, 
and a few other heroes of the within "Adventures," were ac- 
quaintances or personal friends of both the Author and the 
Publisher — some of them as early as 1806-1 3. They had every 
facility that existed, at that day, to verily, and were thoroughly 
assured of, the accuracy of these sketches. 

Inquiries in the neighborhood where the brothers lived, de- 
veloped that it was Andrew, and not Adam Poe, who had the 
terrible adventure with Big Foot. We have changed the name 
accordingly. Eecent examination of documents and corres- 
pondence of which the Author had no knowledge, has satisfied 
the present Publishers of several slight inaccuracies, and of one 
error in criticism of public conduct ; and these have been cor- 
rected. The work is more than ever deserving the rank it took 
in 1832 as authentic history. Many editions, and many thou- 
sand copies, were subsequently published, but none since 1860-1. 

The subjoined biographical sketch of the Author, Eev. John 
A. McClung, D.D., is fr6m the pen of his life-long friend, 
Henry Waller, Esq., one of the ablest members of the Chi- 
cago bar for seventeen years past, and, for nearly twenty years 
prior, of the Maysville bar, an honored representative of Mason 
county in the Kentucky Legislature, a president of the Mays- 
ville and Lexington Railroad, etc. It is a beautiful, rich, and 
thrilling tribute — as just as it is elegant — to one of the noblest 
and most gifted of Kentuckians — who was, in succession, min- 
ister, author, lawyer, statesman, and again minister of the Gos- 
pel; a model in them all, and always the highest type of a 
Christian gentleman. 

The "Additional Sketches," beginning with page 335, we have 
compiled from the most authentic sources. They are of the 
same thrilling character as those which gave the work a stand- 
ard reputation forty years ago. 

EICHAED H. COLLINS, 
VAL. P. COLLINS. 
Covington, Ky.. January 1, 1872. 



(iv) 



BIOGRAPHY OF THE AUTHOR. 



John Alexander McClung was born near the town of Wash- 
ington, in the county of Mason, State of Kentucky, on the 25th 
day of September, 1804. His father, Judge William McClung, a 
native of Virginia, of Scotch extraction, was distinguished in the 
early history of his adopted State for his legal ability and judi- 
cial purity and firmness. On the 25th of May, 1793, he had mar- 
ried Miss Susan Marshall, a daughter of Col. Thomas Marshall, 
and sister of Chief Justice Marshall, of Virginia. She was a lady 
of rare intellectual powers, brilliancy of conversation, sweetness 
of disposition and elevated piety. 

Judge McClung died when John was a little boy, and he was 
thus left to the care and training of a gifted and devoted mother. 
During their lives they were rarely separated; and for many 
years and to the close of her life she resided in the family of her 
son, who was most tenderly attached to her. She reached the 
great age of 81 years, and died in Maysville, Ky., on the 5th of 
November, 1858. 

In early boyhood, John exhibited unusual eagerness for knowl- 
edge and a passionate fondness for books. He not only acquired 
easily and rapidly, but digested and retained what he read to a 
remarkable extent. So soon as he was sufficiently advanced, his 
mother sent him to the celebrated Academy at Buck Pond, in 
Woodford County, Ky., under the supervision of his uncle, Dr. 
Louis Marshall . There he had the advantage of being instructed 
by Mr. William R. Thompson, a Scotch gentleman of the highest 
attainments in classical learning, who was not only a most crit- 
ical scholar, of pure and pious character, but a rigid disciplin- 
arian, with a rare faculty of imparting his knowledge, and of 
winning the attachment of his pupils. The great mind of Dr. 
Marshall produced, also, a powerful impression upon the stu- 
dents, by opening up wide fields of knowledge, acquainting 
them with new modes of analysis and thought, and stimulat- 



v i BIOGBATHY OF THE A UTIIOR. 

ing to a generous emulation. And there was a larger number 
of highly-gifted and ambitious youths in the Academy, at that 
period, than at any other similar institution in the West, as has 
been abundantly shown by their distinguished records in after 
life. 

It was in the midst of such influences, that young McClung 
may be said to have commenced his career as a student. He 
was retiring in his nature, quiet, unobtrusive, meditative in his 
habits, and select in his companionships; and noted, even at 
that early day, for his long, solitary walks. His application to 
his studies was close and ^indefatigable ; and he soon was re- 
garded as one of the most thorough and accurate scholars in that 
bright circle of young intellects. 

In the spring of 1820, a revival of religion occurred at the 
Pisgah Presbyterian meeting-house, which brought within its 
influence some of the most promising boys in the Academy — 
young McClung in the number. Shortly after, a malignant fe- 
ver prevailed amongst the students, resulting fatally in many 
cases. He suffered a severe attack, but after a long, hard strug- 
gle, his strong constitution triumphed, and he was partially re- 
stored to health. But he never recovered from the fearful effects 
of heavy doses of calomel which were administered to him, ac- 
cording to the medical practice of that day. Thus, when he left 
the school, his mind was already richly furnished for one so 
young, his constitution was permanently impaired, and he had 
dedicated his life to his Savior. 

In his 18th year, he was enrolled as a student in the Theolog- 
ical Seminary at Princeton. His application to his studies was 
so intense, that his frail health yielded to the strain, and he was 
forced to return to Kentucky in 1821. There, as his health re- 
vived, he continued his Theological studies. 

He was married, on the 25th of November, 1825, to Miss Eliza 
Johnston, of Washington, Ky., a daughter of Dr. John Johnston, 
formerly of Connecticut, and a sister of Hon. Josiah Stoddard 
Johnston, afterward Senator from Louisiana, and of Gen. Albert 
Sidney Johnston. She was one of the gentlest, purest, most 
unselfish of women, refined and elevated by a deep and fervent 
piety. 

In 1828, he was licensed by the Ebenezer Presbytery to preach 
the Gospel. At this period of his life his reputation for scholar- 
ship was very high. His reading, independent of his Theolog- 
ical studies, had been very extensive in all the great departments 



BIOGRAPHY OF THE A VTHOB. v ii 

of classical and modern thought. He was a critical scholar in 
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew, and could quote largely and with 
fluency from the originals of the leading authors. So it was in 
history, philosophy, poetry, and belles-lettres generally. The 
most gifted and eloquent of all his fellow-students stated, in 
conversation, years afterward, that McClung was superior to all . 
whom he had ever known, in the exactness and scope of his 
studies, and the clearness and power with which he grasped and 
held all that he read ; that every page was, as it were, printed on 
his brain, as lie could not only state substantially the contents 
of a book, but quote the language by page and line. 

The first efforts of the young preacher produced a great sensa- 
tion in Kentucky. His thought was original, his diction ornate, 
his manner dignified and impressive; he was bold, logical, elo- 
quent, enthusiastic, and promised soon to rank with the most 
brilliant and powerful orators of the pulpit. During the brief 
period of two or three years, he preached in various sections of 
the State, and crowded assemblies greeted him wherever he 
went. But on the very threshold of this opening future of high 
promise and wide usefulness, in the midst of popular commenda- 
tions and rapidly-rising reputation, he paused ; his faith wavered ; 
the eloquent lips were silent. His convictions of the truth of 
Scripture had become disturbed, and he was too conscientious 
to preach what he doubted in his heart. He promptly stated 
his condition to Presbytery, and asked to he relieved. In the 
discussion which ensued, a motion was made to go to the extent 
of expulsion. The Rev.. John Todd, a noble and venerable sol- 
dier of the cross, rose and said : " Brethren, I hope no such action 
will be taken. Brother McClung is honest ; he is a seeker after 
truth, but under a cloud ; give him time ; relieve him as he asks; 
do nothing more. The light will again dawn upon him, and he 
will surely return." Thus it was settled. 

This was in 1831. In 1832, at the instance of his life-long 
friend, Lewis Collins, Esq., editor of the Maysville Eagle, he 
wrote the "Sketches of Western Adventure." They were published 
in book-form by Mr. Collins, became very popular, and passed 
through many editions. These sketches were dashed off rap- 
idly, but are vivid, graphic, and truthful delineations of wild 
pioneer life, and the fierce struggles of border war. They are 
faithful pictures of the primeval forests of the West, of the sav- 
age chiefs and tribes that roamed them, and of the heroic, in- 
domitable adventurers who conquered both. 



v iii BIOGRAPHY OF THE A UTHOB. 

In 1830, through the cele orated publishing house of Carey & 
Lea, Philadelphia, he had published a work of fiction, entitled 
"Camden"— a tale of the South during the revolutionary period 
— of singular interest and power, in which he gave a description 
of the battle of Camden that is a very master-piece of military 
narration. 

He had, indeed, a passionate admiration of military exploits, 
and was gifted in comprehending and accurately describing 
them. He was not satisfied, as men ordinarily are, with a gen- 
eral conception of a battle. He looked closely into details ; he 
studied the topography of the field of operations, until he be- 
came familiar with all its military features ; he examined into 
the numbers, material, and condition of the opposing forces; 
the qualifications of leaders and subalterns; the strategy and 
maneuvers preceding and during the battle ; the positions of the 
various corps, divisions, and regiments, and the particular part 
in the struggle performed by each; the swaying tides of the 
fight, the advance and retreat, the turning point, the decisive 
charge, and all the causes conspiring to the grand result. He 
gathered these details from all sources accessible— history, biog- 
raphy, official reports of commanding and inferior officers, and 
contemporary correspondence — and, after thorough collation and 
scrutiny of these, he formed his own conclusions as to the con- 
test and its consequences. 

It was after this fashion he had studied history, ancient and 
modern, civil as well as military, in all its amplitude. Upon such 
vast acquisitions he had brought to bear his rare powers of gen- 
eralization, and so traced causes and results in their continuous 
flow from the earliest to the latest periods,. and so arranged and 
connected the great facts of history, that the origin, migration, 
and intermingling of races, the rise, progress, and decay of na- 
tions, with their deep teachings of philosophy, lay in his mem- 
ory in one connected and consistent outline. 

Shortly after retiring from the ministry, he determined to un- 
dertake the study of the law. At the May term, 1835, he was 
admitted to the bar of the Mason Circuit Court, and immedi- 
ately entered upon the practice. He had formed a partnership 
with Harrison Taylor, Esq., a gentleman of legal ability and 
great worth, who was associated with him so long as he prac- 
ticed law, and who has continued a prosperous professional ca- 
reer to the present time, besides being for four years Speaker 
of the House of Eepresentatives of Kentucky, and filling other 



BIOGRAPHY OF THE A UTHOR. [ x 

offices of high honor in the State. On the day of his admission, 
Mr. McClung argued, before the Court, a question involving the 
construction of a statute and a difficult point in pleading. His 
argument was brief, clear, and cogent; and although the subject 
had been considered very doubtful, it was felt, when he con- 
cluded, that a demonstration had been made. The decision w r as 
promptly rendered in his favor. From that time he took posi- 
tion in the front rank of his profession, and, during a practice 
of fifteen years duration, was regarded as one of the leading 
lawyers and ablest advocates in the State. 

As a speaker before courts and juries, he was never monot- 
onous or tedious, rarely elaborate, always earnest and effective. 
There was nothing desultory in his efforts. His statement, in 
opening, was concise, and the order and logic of his argument 
wonderfully lucid. In cases in which he had not the conviction 
that his client was in the right, McClung was rarely up to the 
standard of his own pow T ers. The consciousness of advocating a 
cause unjust, seemed to sap his strength, and blunt the edge of 
his intellect. He was not a master in the tricks or chicanery of 
the profession ; nor could he tolerate insincerity, sophistry, or 
subterfuge. He was a cautious, conscientious counselor, frank 
always in his opinions given to clients, and never advising liti- 
gation unless based on a just claim. This course had the effect 
of generally placing him in the advocacy of the right. And so 
clear and sharply-defined was his character for integrity and 
truth, so deep in the popular heart was the conviction of his 
unswerving fidelity to principle, that he won, nay, he com- 
manded as a tribute, the confidence alike of clients, juries, and 
judges. Hence, when he appeared in a cause which he believed 
to be just, and threw himself into it with all the earnestness of 
his convictions, the weight of his character and the full power 
of his massive logic, warmed and flashing with the fires of his 
eloquence, he was well-nigh irresistible, and success almost as- 
sured. 

He was not ambitious in the ordinary sense, and cared noth- 
ing for place or power. Practically, he ignored all the arts by 
which men, who seek preferment, wield the populace to their 
purposes and profit. He never descended to the low plane on 
which schemers and demagogues plot and struggle, nor did he 
attempt to influence men by motives indirect, secret, or sinister. 
But he took a lively interest frequently both in Federal and State 
politics, and exercised, for many years, a wide political influence 



x BIOGRAPHY OF THE A UTHOR. 

in the State in favor of conservative principles. Especially, in the 
heated contests succeeding the election of Mr. Van Buren and the 
financial collapse of 1837, he took an active part, and frequently 
and with great effect addressed large gatherings of the people. 
At the solicitation of many friends, he consented and was elected 
to represent his native county in 1837, and took his seat in the 
Legislature in the winter of that year. 

South Carolina had conceived a sectional scheme, by which she 
proposed to run a railroad from Charleston, through the States of 
North Carolina and Tennessee, to Louisville, in Kentucky, and at 
the same time and in conjunction therewith to establish a mam- 
moth bank, with its head-office in Charleston, and branches in the 
other States. It was brought forward in the Kentucky Legisla- 
ture, at the session of 1837, and defeated, Mr. McClung opposing 
it. He was re-elected, and took his seat at the session of 1838. 
Great efforts had been made in the canvass of that year to secure 
for the project able friends in the Legislature, and every possible 
appeal directed to Southern sympathies and pride, as well as to 
sectional interests and State aggrandizement. The success was 
very encouraging, and, upon the assembling of the Legislature, 
it was believed by its friends that the charter for road and bank 
would surely pass. Under far more favorable auspices than in 
1837, its passage was formidably urged by a body of able, zealous, 
and eloquent men, with the distinguished Commissioner, Col. 
Memminger, of South Carolina, as its chief advocate. The pub- 
lic interest had become intense, influential men had congregated 
from all quarters of the country, and the capital was filled with 
the intellect and fashion and beauty of the State. Every appli- 
ance had been enlisted and used to insure a triumph. The de- 
bate had progressed for several days ; the friends of the measure 
were already flushed with the anticipations of victory; the op- 
position was firm, stern, and uncompromising. It was at this 
point that Mr. McClung, with erect and manly form, took the 
floor. 

In opening, he alluded to the advantages which the friends of 
the bill contended would result, and said : 

"At a first glance they are imposing. The grandeur of the 
object intended to be accomplished — the total revolution in the 
trade, commerce, and political associations of Kentucky, which 
would result from its completion — strikes the mind of the states- 
man with an emotion bordering on awe, and for a time deprives 
him of the power of examining the subject with that calm scru- 
tiny which a project so novel and vast imperiously demands of a 



BIOGRAPHY OF THE A UTHOB. x i 

Kentucky statesman. But this scrutiny, Mr. Chairman, it is our 
duty to give. Let the romantic dreamer of the closet unbridle 
his fancy, if he please, and overlooking all obstacles suggested by 
reason and experience, let him career at will among the clouds, 
sunbeams, and golden vapors of romance and fiction — ours is a 
more homely and more severe duty." 

He then took up, in their order, the four positions on which 
the friends of the measure rested its claims, compared them with 
the provisions of the bill, and examined the whole subject in a 
searching and powerful analysis. He showed himself master of 
the great questions of banking, commerce, and political econ- 
omy, and exposed the fallacy of the assumption that the bank 
was needed or fitted to stimulate and regulate commerce, or to 
correct and lower the exchanges, or that it could build the road, 
or that the road could be built without heavy taxation. In com- 
menting upon the claim of Carolina to control the operations of 
the vast scheme, with lofty and swelling form and flashing eyes, 
he exclaimed : 

"Sir, the money-power of a nation is the crown and scepter 
of sovereignty. It is the eagle-plume in the cap, the brightest 
jewel of the diadem. Strike it out, yield it into the hands of a 
foreign government, and the sovereignty of that nation is gone. 
The same tremendous power which the mother bank of the 
United States possessed over the branches established in the 
States, this bill now proposes to give, not to the Union of all the 
States, not to Congress, where we are represented and have a 
voice potential and proportioned to our political strength, but 
to a junto of nullifiers in the city of Charleston. Sir, if it was 
with reluctance that Kentucky yielded this power to a bank 
controlled by the General Government, of which she is a part 
and where her voice is heard, how much more reluctantly 
should she yield her neck to the yoke of haughty Carolina, in 
whose councils she has no voice, whose principles are at war 
with ours, whose designs are treasonable to this fair and noble 
Union, who is fettered to the chariot-wheels of John C.Calhoun, 
wheeling as he wheels, and obeying his every nod, beck, and 
signal. Strike out that section, sir, so degrading to Kentucky, 
or war to the knife is the cry of its opponents. But, sir, they 
do not choose to have it stricken out, Money-power, commer- 
cial sovereignty, is what that haughty State wants, and she had 
rather lose her bank than lose that section that places the bit in 
our mouths and the reins in her hands. I have myself explained 
to her Commissioner how hateful that section was "to our feelings, 
how revolting to our pride; and have told him that the bank 
might pass, if it was stricken out. But no! met Csesar, ant nihil! 
She must queen it over four States, or she does not want the 
bank. She herself is too proud to submit to a United States 
bank. The power is too great. But she is perfectly willing to 
wield that power herself with which she is afraid to trust the 
General Government. She wants a Sub-treasury at New York! 



xii BIOGRAPHY OF THE A UTHOR. 

but a Southern confederated bank at Charleston, embracing four 
States, with the Charleston junto holding the reins, curbing the 
four horses in her chariot, and holding them to the track as suits 
her purposes. What are those purposes, sir? Do they bode 
peace to the Union, harmony to this beautiful confederacy of 
sister States? Has she abandoned her wild dream of nullifica- 
tion and dismemberment? Oh, yes, says her Commissioner; she 
has abandoned all those wild visions; she loves this Union; she 
has no dark designs of dismemberment. She does not wish, by 
her commercial bank, to league together four States against a 
National Bank and a National Union, and to bind them to her 
chariot-wheels by fetters of silver, against the coming trouble 
which she is daily fomenting on the door of Congress, and daily 
striving to accelerate by the harsh and inflammatory course of 
her representatives in Congress! There is no design, sir — none 
in the world! Then, gentlemen, strike out that section! ' Out 
with that damned spot,' which puts a yoke upon the neck of 
Kentucky, and the reins in the hands of South Carolina. Sir, 
we are proud of our native State. She stands upon a level with 
any other State. She is true to this Union, to the last of her 
steel and the last of her breath. She has proved it, sir, in times 
of blood and danger. Where is the battle-field within her reach 
where her war-cry has not been heard, and where her rifles have 
not sounded? Upon the land and upon the water, upon the 
beechen flats of the Thames, and the cypress savannahs of the 
Mississippi, her sons have offered their breasts to the foe, and 
poured out their hearts' blood as freely as the flask gives its wine 
to the revel. When the blue waters of Erie blushed red with 
the life-current of our seamen, Kentucky was there. When the 
cypress plains of New Orleans pealed to the earthquake shout of 
victory, Kentucky was there." 

Discomfiture and dismay in the enemy's ranks succeeded the 
flush and hope of triumph, as position after position was car- 
ried. Unpausing and still onward, with the precision of a serried 
host and the measured tread of massed battalions in column of 
attack, his great argument moved steadily and surely upon the 
remaining strongholds. The charge was irresistible. A gallant 
effort was made to rally the shattered forces, and a splendid 
passage of arms between Memminger and Thomas F. Marshall 
formally closed the conflict ; but all was unavailing. The blow 
delivered by McClung was mortal ; there was no recovery. The 
power of the South was broken ; the scheme was crushed, and 
Kentucky safe. 

The impression of this noble effort throughout the State was 
very great; and had he been ambitious, he could easily have 
reached high honors from a grateful and admiring people. But 
he declined all solicitations, and never afterward returned to 
public life. It was entirely unsuited to his habits, to his tastes, 



BIOGRAPHY OF THE A UTIIOI?. x '.ii 

and to the inclinations and temper of his mind. Besides, his 
health was infirm, and lie could illy endure the excitements 
and harrassments of political strife. Accordingly, he quietly 
resumed his profession, and met the demands of a laborious 
practice until the close of 1849. 

On the 20th of January, 18-18, by special invitation, he deliv- 
ered, in Frankfort, an address before the Kentucky Colonization 
Society. It was very able, and has been greatly commended. 
He undertook to show that slavery, in the Northern Slave States, 
at least, was not a permanent but merely a temporary institu- 
tion, which was slowly receding South, and would certainly dis- 
appear ; that this recession did not rid those States of the black 
population, but left them encumbered with free blacks ; and 
lastly, that this society would not only relieve those States of 
that encumbrance, but would, in all probability, become the 
agent for regenerating the African continent, and converting it 
into the seat of great civilized and Christian nations. 

The first two great propositions he demonstrated rigidly by a 
comprehensive and exhaustive examination of the census re- 
turns, from 1790 to 1840, for the States of Rhode Island, Con- 
necticut, Pennsylvania, New York, New Jersey, Delaware, Mary- 
land, District of Columbia, Virginia, North Carolina, Kentucky, 
and Missouri. He claimed that a great law was in operation, 
and closed this branch of his address in these words: 

"There are in the natural as in the moral world great and 
slow movements, both of recessson and advance, often continued 
through centuries of change, which arrest the eye of the natural- 
ist and philosopher, the final result of which is confidently pre- 
dicted long before it is clearly unfolded to the busy masses of 
mankind. No naturalist hesitates with absolute certainty to de- 
clare that the buffalo, the beaver, and the Indian races, are draw- 
ing near the close of their career, and destined, in a few brief 
years, to disappear forever. Their recession, from east to west, 
commenced nearly three centuries ago, when the bark of the 
Pilgrims first grated upon the Plymouth sands. The fated race 
of the Anglo-Saxon came over the blue waters from the distant 
east, and from that moment the death^knell of the indigenous 
tribes has wrung mournfully in the ear of the world. No hu- 
man power, not the combined armies and navies of Christen- 
dom, no paper protests, or legislative enactments, can arrest the 
melancholy march of the Indian race to their ocean-grave in the 
far west. . . . No less distinct, although of far later origin, is 
the recession of the Spanish and the advance of the Anglo-Saxon 
race from north to south. . . . For good or for evil, for weal or 
woe, the Anglo-Saxon race advances, westward and southward, 
with a haughty step which no barrier can arrest ; and the Indian 



x i v BIOGRAPHY OF THE A UTIIOR. 

and Mexican retreat before him, perishing as they recede. Not 
less distinctly marked, but with a step more noiseless and slow, is 
that great combined moral and physical recession which I have 
endeavored to illustrate. There is a steadiness along a vastly 
extended line, a slow, sullen, massive regularity, which suggests 
the idea of vast power, and fixed and immutable purpose. It 
hears no remonstrance, it respects no prejudice, it regards no 
boundary, it pauses for no obstacle. Day and night, summer 
and winter, with a step that never tires, yet which never seems 
to move, it still moves on, through granite and steel, to its final 
destiny. What is that destiny, and where is the home which 
nature has provided for this slow and sable wanderer?" 

Then, after rapidly sketching the condition of the free blacks 
in the Northern Slave States, he continues : 

"There is upon the western coast of Africa a vast tract of fer- 
tile territory, capable of furnishing subsistence to fifty millions 
of men. Here is the cradle of the negro race. Here he was 
originally planted by the Creator, and from this coast he was 
torn by violence more than three hundred years ago. Nature 
lias given to the negro a constitution adapted to its burning sun 
and deadly night-dew ; but the white man sickens and dies 
where the negro thrives and prospers. The great Author of na- 
ture, who has created such an infinite variety of plants and ani- 
mals, has generally assigned to each a local habitation, adapted 
to its nature, from which, if left to itself, it will rarely wander. 
The natural habitation of the negro is under the African trop- 
ical sun." 

He then gives a brief history of the establishment and growth 
of Liberia ; and as the discussion of the last of his three propo- 
sitions is so masterly, and looks to the solution of a great prob- 
lem, which is still before the American people, and has become, 
from the accelerating influences of the past ten years, far more 
threatening in its aspect and vastly exaggerated in its propor- 
tions, a few additional extracts will doubtless be pardoned, and 
regarded not out of place in this brief memoir of a truly great 
man : 

"The little colony," he continues, "maintains democratic in- 
stitutions in peace and security; and without a standing army, 
without tumult or disorder, preserves a prodigious ascendancy 
among the surrounding tribes, who regard her with admiration 
and wonder. There is not an old-established government in 
Europe, at this day, which would dare to imitate her example. 
No doubt her growth has been slow, but it is easy to show that 
the slowness of her growth was absolutely necessary to her fu- 
ture greatness, and is the surest evidence which man can derive 
that she is destined to be a light to the African world, and a 
home to the emancipated slave of America. . . . Democratic 
institutions are, of all others, the most difficult to maintain, and 
no nation has ever yet successful^ maintained them, save by a 



BIOGRAPHY OF THE A UTHOB. xv 

long previous training, upon a small scale at first, and gradually 
enlarging its bounds, as "by practice it becomes skillful in the 
art of governing. 

"Such was the growth of the American Republic. The nu- 
cleus of American greatness, the embryo of that colossal power, 
whose shadow is thrown darkly over the future of the old world, 
was the little pilgrim church, which the Mayflower bore over 
the wintry ocean, and left to the mercy of Heaven, upon the cold 
and rocky shore of Plymouth. The stern morality, the mature 
yet ardent taste for religious freedom, was the solid foundation, 
upon which, slowly and gradually, a vast superstructure has 
been raised. . . . Liberia, beginning like New England, upon 
a small scale, with a well-selected material, slowly andgradually 
increasing, has already passed the critical period of infancy, and 
will soon become capable of bearing large accessions from our 
black population, without anarchy or confusion. . . . 

"He who expects that an age of miracles will return, that the 
operation of second causes will be dispensed with, and that time 
will cease to be an element in the advancement of human affairs, 
may regret that the growth of Liberia has been slow and gradual. 
But the enlightened and steady friend of the African race will 
not be discouraged by a circumstance which he regards as a happy 
omen of future grandeur and renown. All that is great, and per- 
manent, and salutary on earth, is slow in its development. The 
bird, the insect, the flower, that rushes earliest to maturity, is ever 
the first to perish and decay. Of all the animals which inhabit 
our earth, the infancy of man is the longest, the most helpless and 
the -most painful ; yet he alone, of all the busy throng, is destined 
to triumph over death, and survive even the wreck of the planet 
he inhabits. 

"Of all the pageants which have dazzled the earth, the Empire 
of Napoleon was the most splendid. Like the enchanted palace 
of the Arabian tale, it sprung up to maturity in a night, and so 
massive were its proportions, so gigantic seemed its strength, that 
the profound and far-reaching sagacity of even Pitt and Mcintosh 
was at fault, and predicted for it a duration commensurate with 
the iron materials of which it seemed composed. But scarcely 
were the predictions recorded, when the mighty mass crumbled in 
ruins, and in less than twelve months scarce a wreck remained. 

" Not so the vast fabric of Roman greatness. From a little as- 
sociation of shepherds and herdsmen, upon the banks of a trifling 
stream, it gradually and slowly rose, through long centuries of 
continued growth, to the empire of the world. Where are now 
the enemies that grappled with her green youth, or triumphed 
over her declining years? Carthage and Macedon, Goths and 
Vandals, Parthians and Huns, have long passed away. Religions, 
languages, empires, all have perished, but the eternal city still lifts 
her gray bead above the wreck of dead empires. 

"Liberia grows slowly, but she consolidates her strength, and 
becomes familiarized with self-government. ... As religious 
oppression in the old world caused a constant stream of emigra- 
tion to the infant colonies of New England — as that emigration 
has slowly increased during the last two hundred years, until 
now it has swelled to a roaring flood — so the uneasy and de- 



xvi BIOGRAPHY OF THE A UTIIOR. 

graded condition of the free blacks in this country, contrasted 
with the brilliant prospect which unites them to Liberia, to- 
gether with the continued and increasing operation of the great 
movement I have endeavored to illustrate, will cause the tide of 
emigration to set toward the African shore at last, with a force 
which even the most sanguine can now scarcely imagine. All 
the great causes now in operation are surely destined to continue 
and to grow in power. The root and foundation of the whole, 
the life and soul of the mighty movement, is the public opinion 
of the Christian and civilized world. . . . 

"If that opinion is onward and not backward, then shall the 
long night of African barbarism come to a close, and the starry 
flag of her great republic shall yet flout the blue skies of the 
tropical world. Time, the mighty workman, the great philoso- 
pher, the builder of truth, and the destroyer of error, time alone 
is necessary to disclose to a wondering world the incredible tale 
of African greatness. . . . Let democratic freedom and geo- 
graphical position exert but one-half the influence upon her 
that they have shown in the Anglo-Saxon race, and her riag will 
cover the ocean and ransack every sea with the rich produce of 
her tropical climate. Let the Protestant religion have one-half 
the influence with them which it has exercised over the more 
favored races, and the interior of Africa will sparkle in the light 
of the Christian faith, and the active hum of civilized industry 
will awaken the echoes of her long-slumbering mountains. . . . 

"There is a general tendency to compensation in all things, an 
equalizing adjustment of tiie balance of good or evil, traces of 
wnich are clearly apparent in the history of the world. Power 
and civilization, greatness and renown, have never been perma- 
nent in races or localities, climates or colors. Within the short 
period of authentic history, the scepter of civilization and power 
has been successively wielded by many different races, from all 
of whom, in turn, it has been wrested by another race. It has 
alternately occupied and abandoned many regions of the earth, 
which have successively passed through the extremes of power 
and degradation, of refinement and barbarism. Assyria and 
Egypt at one time monopolized the power, the arts, and the sci- 
ence of the world. They have long been sunk in barbarism and 
degradation. The freedom, the eloquence, the renown of Greece, 
once held the world in admiration and fear; but for long cen- 
turies she has been the slave of barbarism, and as barbarous as 
her oppressors. Italy has alternately been the seat of freedom 
and slavery, power and weakness, enlightenment and supersti- 
tion. Within the last four hundred years, Spain has passed 
through the extremes of freedom and renown, slavery and dis- 
grace. Even the cheerless deserts of Arabia have not been al- 
ways deserted, and the darkness of the middle ages was lightened 
up by the science, civilization, and greatness of her Saracen 
Caliphs. 

"Almost every other race has had its day of light, however 
dee}) the darkness which has followed. But the lot of the negro 
has as yet been an unmingled heritage of woe. That beautiful 
system of compensation which pervades the work of the Creator, 
by which any apparent injustice or delect in one gift to his crea- 



BIOGRAPHY OF THE A UTHOR. xv ii 

tures is atoned for and compensated in some other way, is finely- 
illustrated by Paley, and is too familiar to be dwelt upon by me. 
And if the African negro is not the only one of his creatures to 
whom the rule does not apply, we would suppose it natural, that 
at some time and in some way, the long-delayed hour of compen- 
sation would arrive. What a, splendid illustration of the rule 
will be given, if the negro race shall finally be exalted by the 
same hand which laid them low! if arts and civilization, wealth 
and renown, life and immortality, shall be bestowed upon their 
country by the Anglo-Saxon, in return for the dark atrocity of the 
slave-trade, and the long bondage of the deadly rice-swamp! " 

The emancipation of the colored race, which, in 1848, seemed* 
the slow work of great philosophic causes, peacefully reaching a 
consummation through the lapse of many years, was suddenly 
accomplished, it is true, in the violent convulsions of civil war. 
Constitutional amendments and legislative enactments have con- 
ferred citizenship, suffrage, and civil equality upon the blacks. 
But, in spite of all efforts, philanthropic or partisan, to elevate 
them to an equality with the white race, the problem still is, can 
the two races and colors commingle, or co-exist in civil and social 
equality on the same soil? Can the fiat of nature, which would 
seem to protest against it, be reversed, or the mark which the 
God of Order has fixed, so significant of separation, if not of in- 
equality, be obliterated ? 

If not, the question so sharply stated by Mr. McClung still 
recurs : " What is the destiny and where is the home which nature has 
provided for this slow and sable wanderer?" And may not the an- 
swer given, with such power of philosophic deduction and pro- 
phetic forecast, be the true solution? "The natural habitation of 
the negro is under the African tropical sun ; " under the influence 
of urgent social laws, ''the tendency of the free blacks to Liberia 
will become general and irresistible," and by force of freedom 
and religion, " the interior of Africa will sparkle in the light of 
Christian faith, and the hum of civilized industry will awaken 
the echoes of her long-slumbering mountains." 

During all the years of his estrangement from the church, and 
his laborious service in high secular employments, Mr. McClung 
never ceased to feel an interest in religion, or failed to show it 
reverence. When, in 1831, he withdrew from the ministry, he 
did not, at once, abandon his investigation of the points on which 
his mind had hesitated. He was left, as he himself said, in a 
wretched state of anxiety, apprehension, and doubt. To relieve 
the suspense, he sought diligently, for years, to reach the con- 
viction that the Scriptures were untrue, and to anchor himself 
2 



XYiii BIOGRAPHY OF THE A TJTHOR. 

on infidelity. He searched for information at every accessible 
source," and gathered from all quarters, and read with eager in- 
terest, the works of skeptics and infidels the world over. But he 
was unsatisfied; he could draw from them neither conviction 
nor consolation ; he could find no rock on which to rest. The 
secret was, he did not seek to deceive or delude himself ; he had 
no heart for error, no patience with sophistry ; he was honest ; 
he sought truth; he loved light. Long afterward, he declared 
emphatically he never was, and he found he could not be, an in- 
fidel ; but he was in deep darkness, and his soul was oppressed 
with gloom. 

In the year 1848, he listened to a sermon of Rev. Dr. Grundy, 
in Maysville, upon one of the points of difficulty which had 
originally disturbed his faith. Something that fell from the 
preacher arrested his attention, and he determined to take up 
again the whole subject and carefully revise his opinions. He 
was induced to this by the hope that his long experience at the 
bar, and the severe training he had undergone, might enable his 
mind, under a fresh impulse, and by better processes, to reach 
the light at last. He knew well that, where fundamental truth 
was involved, his mind was averse to taking any thing on mere 
trust, and imperiously demanded demonstration. Not that he 
was incapable of conceiving or accepting truth in the high re- 
gions of the supernatural and the mysterious, for his mind often 
turned with real delight to the mystic and the spiritual. But he 
had been unable to answer the subtle argument of Gibbon, in 
his celebrated chapters on the Secondary Causes for the rapid 
growth of Christianity ; and in his examination of the sacred 
writings, he had been shaken as to the authenticity and accu- 
racy of the record, and its integrity and consistency as a great 
body of inspired truth. 

Under these conditions, he undertook to review his early 
studies, and to reconstruct, if possible, his early faith. Fortu- 
nately, he met w T ith a rare work — a reply to Gibbon's chapters 
on the Secondary Causes, by an old but very able Scotch com- 
mon law judge, Sir David Dalrymple. The analysis of Gibbon's 
arguments, and the exposure of his false quotations and state- 
ments, are exhaustive and complete. So far as Gibbon's sophis- 
tries were concerned, the perusal of this book was a great enjoy- 
ment and relief to Mr. McClung; and his study of the Scriptures 
became now unremitting and intense. Day after day, night 
after night, till late hours— sometimes throughout the night— 



BIOGRAPHY OF THE A UTIIOB. x ix 

did this earnest man, this giant student, bend his energies to 
the examination and close collation and comparison of all the 
books of the Old and New Testaments, in the original and in 
translation. It was done conscientiously certainly, and no doubt 
prayerfully. 

After many months of unceasing application to this great and 
solemn labor, the clouds were rolled away, the darkness disap- 
peared, the Divine Word was vindicated, the weary mind had 
found its anchor and its rock, and the Sun of Righteousness, 
with healing on his wings, beamed upon his heart. 

His convictions seemed to have been very profound, and were 
undisturbed to the close of his life. In describing the character 
and course of his investigations, and the elaborate process through 
which he had gone, lie stated to a friend, as a sample of the 
foundations he had reached for his intellectual faith, that in the 
Book of Acts, alone, he had found upward of sixty instances of 
minute and undoubtedly undesigned coincidences verifying the 
accuracy of the narrative ; very few of which had ever been no- 
ticed by any of the numerous commentators he had read. 

On the night of the 23d of February, 1849, in the midst of a 
series of protracted meetings in the Presbyterian Church, in 
Maysville, he rose from his seat, went forward, and offered him- 
self for admission to membership. The narrative then given of 
his experiences, his difficulties, his sufferings, his life-battle, in- 
cluding his avowed belief in the genuineness of his conversion 
in boyhood, and terminating with a triumphant testimony to the 
truth of the icliole Bible as the Word of God, is said to have been 
most simple, touching, and soul-subduing. The surrender of 
this strong man to his Savior was child-like and complete. The 
prophecy of his old friend, Mr. Todd, that he would surely return, 
was accomplished. And it is believed that it is not going too 
far to say that the return of such a wanderer — so greatly endowed, 
so richly accomplished, so flattered and tempted in the secular 
walks, so severe in his scrutiny, so rigid in his demand for 
demonstration, so unsparing in his researches, so reliant on his 
mental strength and moral consistency, and so entirely honest 
and sincere — was regarded throughout the wide circle of his ad- 
mirers and friends, and by the whole Christian community, as 
one of the most marked, signal, and convincing testimonies to 
God's blessed truth that has occurred amongst men in modern 
times. 

He scarcely hesitated as to his future life. Although in the 



xx BIOGRAPHY OF THE A UTHOR. 

midst of a prosperous professional career, upon the proceeds of 
which his family were mainly dependent for support; although 
past the meridian of life, and suffering greatly from the infirmi- 
ties of a weakened constitution and waning strength, he cast 
aside these and all other considerations, and counted all as loss 
for the Cross of Christ, "I do not think," says a daughter, "it 
was ever understood how completely my father sacrificed his 
own and his children's worldly prospects by abandoning the 
practice of law for the ministry. Not that he considered it a 
sacrifice ; but still it was ; and so was the emancipation of his 
slaves." 

To recruit his shattered health, in preparation for his new 
work, he passed a few months, during the winter of 1849-50, at 
the water-cure establishment in Brattleboro, Vermont, He re- 
turned much improved, and with spirits renovated and buoyant. 
Under a licensure, in 1850, and an ordination, in 1851, from the 
Presbytery of Ebenezer, he resumed the long-abandoned labors 
of his young life, his early love. Here are some passages from 
the pen of the same gifted daughter, beautifully descriptive of 
his student habits during his ministerial life: 

" He threw himself, heart and soul, into his ministerial work. 
His reading, which had always taken the widest range of his- 
tory, science, poetry, and fiction, was thenceforth mainly con- 
fined to the Scriptures, and every work of any celebrity written 
for their exposition. He quickly gathered about him all the best 
authors on these and kindred subjects; but he was particularly 
devoted to the German commentators. But first, last, and above 
all, he studied the Scriptures in the original. Even our serv- 
ants, who could not read, knew his Hebrew Bible and Greek 
Testament ; and it was amusing to see with what gravity and 
promptness they would select them from a pile of miscellaneous 
books when called for. . . . He indeed ' searched the Script- 
ures;' and as a burning glass collects the faint and scattered 
rays of the sun into one intense and brilliant flame, so he gath- 
ered from ' Moses and the Prophets ' the dim foreshadowings of 
the Sun of Righteousness; and through the medium of his vivid 
and powerful intellect, poured such a flood of light upon the 
sacred page that the simplest and most unlearned of his hearers 
might read the dark sayings and understand the hidden things 
of God. Yet he was equally instructive and delightful when he 
chose some theme from the Gospel or the Epistles. It is a mat- 
ter of deep regret that these sermons, so pure, so strong, so rich, 



BIOGRAPHY OF THE A TJTHOB. xx { 

so spiritual, should live only in the memory of those who heard 
them, and there only in faint and shadowy outline. But my 
father never wrote out a sermon, as I have often heard him say 
to those who, on various occasions, sought them for publication. 
He always composed with a pen in his hand and a half-sheet of 
paper before him, on which he would occasionally write a word, 
or make some mark significant only to himself; but he generally 
left this scrap on his desk, and used no notes in the pulpit. I 
have often possessed myself of these bits of manuscript after- 
ward, but the few cabalistic words and signs suggested almost 
nothing to my mind. . . . He had a number of little note- 
books, one of which he had always beside him as he read, and 
in which he made copious entries, but in the same fragmentary 
style, which, while perfectly intelligible and satisfactory to him- 
self, was hopelessly confusing to any other mind. . . . But in 
the midst of these notes, Hebrew, Greek, and English — scarcely 
more intelligible to me — my father had penned brief, fervent 
sentences, evidently the spontaneous overflow of deep, devo- 
tional feeling ; and at the beginning of each little volume, in 
a few solemn words, he consecrated himself anew to the serv- 
ice of the Lord Jesus, signing his name in full, as if it were a 
covenant between his soul and God; and doubtless he so re- 
garded it." 

The following synopsis of his labors, from 1851 to 1857, was 
given by Judge Lewis Collins, in a notice published in 1859: 

" During the summer and fall of 1851, he occupied the pulpit of 
Rev. Dr. W. L. Breckinridge, at Louisville, in the absence of that 
gentleman in Europe. In the fall of 1851, he was called to the 
pastoral care of the First Presbyterian Church of Indianapolis. 
He preached with great acceptability to that congregation, which 
was devotedly attached to him, for between four and five years. 
During that time he was elected, by a unanimous vote of the 
Board of Trustees, President of South Hanover College, Indiana, 
which office he was induced to accept— but, at the earnest en- 
treaty of his church, afterward resigned. He was subsequently 
called to the Central Church of Cincinnati, vacated by the re- 
moval of Dr. Rice to St. Louis, which he declined. About the 
close of the year 1855, he was compelled, by failing health, to 
resign the pastoral charge of the Indianapolis Church. Near the 
close of his pastorate in that church, he was invited to take 
charge of the large and flourishing Presbyterian Church at Au- 
gusta, Georgia— and, in the hope of restoring his health in a 



xx ii BIO GRAPH Y OF THE A TJTTIOB. 

Southern climate, he accepted the invitation. He preached to 
that people for a few months, hut, upon his return home to re- 
move his family South, his health was again prostrated, and he 
was compelled, in consequence, to relinquish the charge. 

"During his ministry of nine years, he received invitations to 
various other pulpits, among them that of the large Preshyterian 
Church at New Orleans, to which Dr. Scott, of San Francisco, for 
many years ministered, and of which Dr. Palmer, of South Caro- 
lina, is now pastor. 

"Upon leaving his beloved flock at Indianapolis, he removed, 
with his family, to St. Paul, where his only son, J. W. McClung, 
Esq., had a short time previously located. During his residence 
there of some twelve or fifteen months, the cold, dry, and bracing 
air of the North so far restored his physical energies that he again 
ventured to preach, and supplied, occasionally, the pulpits of his 
ministerial brethren in St. Paul." 

Another writer said of him: "With the zeal and almost with 
the eloquence of one of the old apostles, he began his ministry. 
In Louisville, no church could contain the crowds that flocked to 
hear him, and so warm and devoted were his admirers that they 
wished to build him a church. To this he would not consent. 
In Cincinnati the same results followed." 

The able editor of The Presbyterian, of Philadelphia, in 1859, 
thus speaks of him in the General A ssembly : 

"On the only occasion on which *Dr. McClung was ever a 
member of the General Assembly, he made an impression by 
a brief but most telling speech, which can not be forgotten by 
those who were present. It was on a subject which had already 
occupied much time, of which the Assembly was heartily weary, 
and in regard to which an hour had been fixed for taking the 
vote. When the appointed hour came, Dr. McClung, who was 
personally unknown to most of the members, rose and asked to 
be heard ; but there was a manifest determination to listen to no 
further discussion. He plead for but ten minutes, which was at 
length very reluctantly granted. He had no sooner begun his 
speech than the attention of the Assembly was riveted; they 
were evidently captivated by his remarkable combination of 
logic, humor, eloquence, and courtesy. They saw that a new 
star had arisen in our ecclesiastical firmament. When his ten 



*He had received the degree of Doctor of Divinity a short time previous 
to this. 



BIOGRAPHY OF THE A UTHOB. xx iii 

minutes expired, he was about to yield the floor, hut the Mod- 
erator told him to go on, that the Assembly was evidently very 
much pleased to hear him. When he concluded, the vote was 
taken on his proposition, and carried by a vast majority, al- 
though the decision was thought by many to be in direct col- 
lision with a previous action on the same subject. This was the 
first and last time that eloquent voice was heard in the General 
Assembly. Like a brilliant meteor, he shot athwart the skies, 
and then appeared no more." 

Dr. Robert J. Breckinridge, in alluding to this effort, said he 
had never witnessed such an effect, in so short a time, upon such 
a body of men, in all his experience. The grave members were 
spell-bound during its delivery, and so fascinated by his down- 
right sincerity and earnestness, his unusual powers of argument 
and oratory, and the sparkling playfulness of his wit, that he 
believed they were ready, when he concluded, to do any thing 
he wished them to do. They certainly reversed their previous 
action ; and the Doctor thought they did wrong. 

In the spring of 1857, the Maysville pulpit having become 
vacant, and it being understood that his health had improved, 
the desire that Mr. McClung should be called became very 
strong. A private letter was addressed to him by a friend, to 
which, on the 1st of April, 1857, he replied : " I have no hesita- 
tion in saying, that it would give me pleasure to-return to my 
old haunts and mingle in friendly intercourse with my old 
friends. I have long been severed from my native State, and 
although much of my time has been pleasantly spent, among 
warm and attached friends, yet every thing around is foreign to 
my early habits of thought and association, and I would will- 
ingly return should Providence open the way. If the Mays- 
ville Church should heartily and without dissension call me, I will 
certainly accept the call, if I live and enjoy my present ability 
to labor." 

He was unanimously called, and on the first Sabbath in June 
undertook his charge and preached his first sermon. Once more 
he was with a people who had known him from his birth, 
watched with pride the bright dawn of his opening powers, sus- 
tained and sympathized with him in his labors and trials, and 
witnessed with exultant joy the triumphs of his manhood. He 
had come now to renew the associations and friendships, and 
warm once more into life the memories of other times ; to min- 
ister to the spiritual interests of this beloved people, and, in their 






Xxlv BIOGBAPHY OF THE A UTHOB. 

midst, to offer up his last testimonies to the truth. Never did 
the simplicity and purity of his life appear so conspicuous and 
attractive. He sought, at once, to know personally every mem- 
ber of his congregation, to perform in all fidelity the double 
duty of preacher and pastor, and to watch over his whole flock 
as a loving shepherd. 

Those who had known him before only in his public life, and 
been accustomed to regard his habits as exclusive and retiring, 
were surprised and touched to see the great student and thinker 
throw off his seclusion, and surrender himself with genuine 
enjoyment to the little incidents, the delicate duties and sweet 
amenities of pastoral, social, every-day life. But the fountain 
of genial companionship, of kindness and tenderness, was in 
his heart; and they who knew his inner life were not surprised. 
See what a charming picture his daughter has drawn of her 
father's home-habits : 

"He was always domestic in his tastes, and from my earliest 
recollection did much of his office-work at home, frequently re- 
ceiving his clients in the family sitting-room, where he also 
elected to do his reading and writing, apparently undisturbed by 
the constant ebb and flow of a large and busy household. We 
used to play under the very table where he sat at work, taking 
his books of reference to build doll-houses. But he was gener- 
ally oblivious of the giggling and whispering which accompanied 
our quietest amusements, and only noticed our presence to be- 
stow an occasional caress, or a little 'baby-talk,' of which he 
possessed an endless and charming variety. Even when we were 
no longer children, he often used the old fondling phrases, and 
called us by our pet names. Sometimes, at dusk, he would throw 
aside book and pen, and challenge us to a game of romps; in 
summer would run races on the grass, or, tying us securely in 
the swing with a large silk handkerchief, would toss us into the 
branches of the old willow. 

"But though always tender and indulgent, and often conde- 
scending to become our play-fellow, he had a certain dignity and 
reserve which checked familiarity, unless invited by himself. 
We stood in wholesome awe of his displeasure, and though he 
never punished us in any way, children and servants obeyed his 
lightest word. 

" My father was very familiar with the poets, and many a 
snatch from Scott, Byron, Burns, and Moore, I knew by heart, 
long before I read them, from hearing him repeat them as he 



BIOGRAPHY OF THE A UTHOR. X xv 

paced the floor at twilight. When I afterward read the Waver! y 
novels, many portions were quite familiar to me ; for instance, 
Wamba's song : 

" 'Anna Marie, love, up with the sun — 

Anna Marie, love, morn is begun ! 
Flowers are waking, love, birds singing free- 
Up with the sun, then, love, Anna Marie ! ' 

"You know my sister's nam« is Anna Maria. Morning by 
morning, my father chanted this in our ears to waken us. He 
was fond of singing, had a sweet, mellow voice, and would often 
burst out in sudden song as he sat at work, or walked to and fro 
in the room, as was his life-long custom/' 

Under his ministry at Maysville, a deep interest was awakened 
and continued, and the church blessed by large accessions and in- 
creased spirituality. So great was the impression he made, that 
the ministers of other denominations frequently dispensed with 
their evening services, in order that they and their congregations 
might have the opportunity of listening to his discourses. 

So conscious was he of the fullness of his knowledge, and so 
devoted to the Master's service, that he delighted in the exposi- 
tion of the Scriptures, in familiar conversation in private inter- 
views and the social circle, as well as in the pulpit. Although 
this. was his life-theme, the subject of his constant meditations, 
and although ever ready to minister to the hungry and thirsty, 
he was never obtrusive ; always judicious and discriminating as 
to persons and occasions, his conversations were so seasonable 
and so full of information and interest, that few ever listened 
who did not regret when he ceased to speak. But he was no con- 
troversionalist; he had no taste for polemics in religion. He did 
not conceive that his appointed work lay in this field, and was 
careful never to attack the opinions or offend the feelings of those 
who differed with him as to doctrines. He was, indeed, very toler- 
ant as to differences in doctrine and church-government within 
the limits of recognized evangelical belief, and co-operated with 
ministers of other denominations heartily, as brothers in Christ 
and co-laborers in the same vineyard. Hence his relations with 
them were kind and warm, and he was enabled to wield a won- 
derful influence in the promotion of harmony and the general 
interests of the church. Although entirely clear and firm in his 
opinions, and although he occasionally discussed the great dis- 
tinctive doctrines of his church, and presented them as a compre- 
hensive body of divine truth, he was not a doctrinal preacher. 
3 



xxvi BIOGRAPHY OF THE A UTHOB. 

He was a great teacher of the Scriptures, an expositor of the Bihle. 
The memory of his own mental difficulties and long resistance 
to the truth, led him, no doubt, to feel that the first thing to be 
accomplished was to lay, broadly and deeply in the mind, the 
firm conviction that the Bible was inspired and certainly true. 
Hence, he was oftentimes at great pains to explain the history, 
composition, authenticity, and preservation of the various books 
of the Old and New Testaments, and the links, apparent and 
secret, which bound them together as the inspired word. Hence, 
he dwelt with so much interest and emphasis upon the types and 
symbols and oriental imagery of the Bible, with which he was so 
familiar; and which, under his teaching, resolved so many ob- 
scurities of the sacred record, brought out so many hidden har- 
monies, and threw such broad lights upon the spiritual signifi- 
cance and beautiful consistency of the whole. Hence, he turned 
so frequently to the prophecies of the Old Testament, which had 
run their course, and proved, from the concurring testimony of 
history, sacred and profane, how certain and wonderful had been 
the fulfillment. In this connection, he discussed, in their natural 
and logical relations, as well as in the light of an overruling Prov- 
idence, the dealings of God with his chosen people and the Gen- 
tile nations, to show how all had proceeded to a consummation 
which prophecy had foretold. Especially did he point to the 
chastisement and dispersion of the Jews, under which they have 
suffered for so many centuries and are still suffering, in perfect 
accordance with a prophecy uttered and recorded certainly thou- 
sands of years ago, as a demonstration of the inspiration of the 
Bible, unanswerable and overwhelming. He loved to trace the 
earliest intimations of mercy to man as they glimmer, in the twi- 
light of time, through sacrifice, and symbol, and type; and to 
gather up and mold into symmetry and shape the fragmentary 
portraitures of a Savior, by seer, and psalmist, and prophet, as 
they come darkly down, scattered along generations and centu- 
ries, to the manger and the cross. 

He often unfolded the parables and dwelt on the teachings of 
our Lord, in their wide and minute application to all the inner 
and outer experiences of life, to show that they indeed disclosed 
the only true wisdom. And, sometimes, in the midst of a great 
passage, when pressing the claims of the gospel upon the imme- 
diate attention of his hearers, and urging them, upon the infal- 
lible truth of its precious promises, to dedicate their whole lives 
to the Savior's service— his long arms would be suddenly folded 



BIOGRAPHY OF THE A UTHOR. xxvii 

on his breast, his form drawn tip to its full height, and, with look 
and manner intensely earnest, he would cry out, in thrilling tones, 
" Will you listen to me! will you remember! " 

He was totally free from the formal mannerism which fre- 
quently mars pulpit delivery. He had spoken too often to juries 
and popular assemblages, not to know that the direct look, the 
natural bearing, the familiar illustration, the free, energetic, 
emotional delivery, as the extemporaneous thought pressed to 
its conclusions, was the only way to arrest and hold the atten- 
tion, sway the feelings, and command the convictions of his 
audience. 

At this period he seemed to feel very deeply the necessity laid 
upon him to do quickly what he had to do in his Master's service. 
His devotion was unsparing, and his physical system so frail, that 
his health, in spite of his heroic efforts to maintain it, gradually 
declined. A touching incident, illustrative of his entire dedica- 
tion to his work, occurred in the early part of 1859. He had been 
absent a few days, on hard service, and returned on Saturday 
night, much exhausted. At the morning services succeeding, 
in reading the 19th chapter of Job, it was observed that he was 
very feeble, and rested on the pulpit for support. As he pro- 
ceeded, his voice became scarcely audible, and his head grad- 
ually drooped. In the midst of the 21st verse — "Have pity upon 
me, have pity upon me, oh ye, my friends ; for the hand of God 
hath touched me" — his articulation ceased, his head sank; he 
had fainted. He was promptly surrounded by his friends, who 
caught him before he fell, and laid him on the floor of the pul- 
pit. Restoratives were applied, and he slowly became conscious. 
His physician said he should be carried home as soon as his 
strength permitted. McClung shook his head. It was urged 
that his life would be endangered, if he persisted in the services. 
But he could not be influenced. "/ must preach the gospel!'" he 
said ; and he did preach to that awed and sympathizing congre- 
gation a noble discourse on that chapter of Job. 

His mournful end was now near at hand. The great light was 
soon to be extinguished. On Wednesday, the 3d of August, of 
that year, he left Maysville, on an excursion for the benefit of 
his health. Passing through Cincinnati and Cleveland, he stop- 
ped, on Friday, at the village of Tonawanda, about nine miles 
from Niagara Falls, intending to spend the Sabbath there. But 
finding that there was no Presbyterian Church in the town, it is 
supposed that on Saturday, the 6th, he walked over to the steam- 



Xxviii BIO GRAM Y OF THE A TJTHOR. 

boat-landing, at Schlosser, on the Niagara, and, after arriving 
there, went into the river to bathe. It had been his habit, for 
years, to take long walks and bathe in cold water, daily. His 
clothes were found on the dock, where he had prepared for bath- 
ing; and he was never seen afterwards in life. Being very weak, 
he may have been suddenly chilled and cramped, or borne out 
too far by a strong current, and so carried over the Falls. His 
body was found in an eddy on the American side, near the 
mouth of the river, four days after, and interred in the Niagara 
Fort burying-ground. Subsequently his remains were removed 
to Kentucky, and funeral services performed in his church, in 
Maysville, by the Rev. Messrs. Worrall, Coons, and Scudder, of 
the Presbyterian Church ; Rev. Mr. Nash, of the Episcopal, and 
Rev. Mr. Bayless, of the Methodist Church. A very able sermon 
was preached by Mr. Worrall, before one of the largest audiences 
ever assembled in the city, from part of the 17th verse and 48th 
chapter of Jeremiah, "How is the strong staff broken, and the 
beautiful rod!" Alter the ceremonies were concluded, a long 
and sorrowing procession followed, and consigned his body to its 
last resting-place, in his native county, near the city, on the banks 
of the Ohio. 

He left a wife, one son, and three daughters, to mourn him. 
Mrs. McClung survived only till the 28th December, 18G0, when 
she died at St. Paul, Minnesota. 

The shock of such a death was- fearful throughout the com- 
munity, and there was mourning in the land. A great and good 
man had fallen in Israel. A dispensation, so sudden and severe, 
was felt to be mysterious indeed. In his 55th year, in the ma- 
turity of his powers, and of his wide usefulness, he had been 
stricken down, by an accident, in an hour, far from family, and 
home, and friends, and gathered to his rest. Yet he had lived 
long enough to reach eminent distinction as student, scholar, 
lawyer, statesman, and divine, and to do a great work for his 
fellow-men. 

In person he w T as tall, and of striking presence. His carriage 
was not graceful, though free ; for he had the angular motions 
of a student, walking erectly and rapidly, with a long, swinging 
stride, and an independent, oftentimes abstracted air. His fore- 
head was broad, prominent, and massive, with heavy brows arch- 
ing widely over his deep, dark-brown, expressive ej^es; mouth 
large, chin square and firm ; and his whole face full of mental 
power, earnestness, and resolution. 






BIOGRAPHY OF THE A UTHOR. xx i x 

In no aspect was he an ordinary man. Nature and education 
had fitted him for high trusts, and worthily did he fill them. 
His career in the law displayed, in clearest light, a master quality 
of his being — the spirit of justice. His sense of truth and right 
was so absolute, and his courage so superior to intimidation, that 
he recognized and guarded, with highest courtesy, the rights of 
others. A firm will and unbending purpose gave him weighty 
influence with his associates, and a rigid control over himself. 
Penetrating insight into human motive, and large powers of ob- 
servation and generalization, rendered his views of life philo- 
sophic, and his opinions of public men and measures sagacious 
and sound. 

Although he wandered long and far from the sublime way to 
which he was early called, twenty years of secular life succeed- 
ing exhibited such high qualities of head and heart, so elevated 
him to conspicuous position among men, and commanded their 
confidence, that his return to his sacred office, in the providence 
of God, signalized far more strikingly his testimony to truth, and 
may have wrought out more of good to man and glory to God, 
than would have resulted from an unbroken ministry. And 
that very experience no doubt operated to the elevation of his 
spiritual life, and to a more devoted and blessed consecration to 
his Master's cause. 



SKETCHES 



OF 



WESTERN ADVENTURE. 



CHAPTER I. 






THE English settlements in North America, until 
late in the eighteenth century, were confined to the 
country lying east of the Alleghany Mountains. Even 
the most adventurous traders from Virginia and 
Pennsylvania rarely penetrated beyond the head waters 
of the Ohio River; and the spot where Pittsburgh now 
stands was, for a long time, an extreme frontier point, 
where the white fur-traders and the western Indians 
were accustomed to meet and exchange their commod- 
ities. All beyond was an unexplored wilderness, which 
was known only as occupying certain degrees of latitude 
and longitude upon tiie map. Shorily before the old 
French war of 1755, this spot was occupied by the 
French and a fort erected, which, in honor of their 
commander, was called Du Quesne. 

The possession of this fortress was keenly debated 
during the earlier years of the war, and was soon ren- 
dered memorable by the disastrous expedition of Brad- 
dock and Grant. Omitting a regular detail of these 
events — which have been often related — we shall com- 
mence our desultory history with a detail of the ad- 
ventures of Col. James Smith, who subsequently re- 
moved to Kentucky, and for many years was a resident 

(13) 



14 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

of Bourbon County. He was the first Anglo-American 
who penetrated into the interior of the Western country — ■ 
at least the first who has given us an account of his ad- 
ventures ; and in a succession of sketches, like the pres- 
ent, designed to commemorate individual rather than 
national exertions, he is justly entitled to the distinction 
which we give him. If Ave mistake not, his adventures 
will be found particularly interesting, as affording more 
ample specimens of savage manners and character, than 
almost any other account now in existence. 

In the spring of the year 1755, James Smith, then 
a youth of eighteen, accompanied a party of three 
hundred men from the frontiers of Pennsylvania, who 
advanced in front of Braddock's army for the purpose 
of opening a road over the mountains. When within 
a few miles of the Bedford Springs, he was sent back to 
the rear to hasten the progress of some wagons loaded 
with provisions and stores for the use of the road cutters. 
Having delivered his orders, he was returning, in com- 
pany with another young man, when they were suddenly 
fired upon by a party of three Indians, from a cedar 
thicket which skirted the road. Smith's companion was 
killed on the spot ; and although he himself was unhurt, 
yet his horse was so much frightened by the flash and 
report of the guns as to become totally unmanageable, 
and, after a few plunges, threw him with violence to 
the ground. Before he could recover his feet, the In- 
dians sprung upon him, and, overpowering his resist- 
ance, secured him as a prisoner. 

One of them demanded, in broken English, whether 
''more white men were coming up;" and upon his 
answering in the negative, he was seized by each arm 
and compelled to run with great rapidity over the 
mountain until night, when the small party encamped 
and cooked their supper. An equal share of their 
scanty stock of provisions was given to the prisoner; 
and in other respects, although strictly guarded, he was 
treated with great kindness. On the evening of the 
next day, after a rapid walk of fifty miles through cedar 
thickets and over very rocky ground, they reached the 
western side of the Laurel Mountain, and beheld at a 



JAMES SMITH. 15 

little distance the smoke of an Indian encampment. 
His captors now fired their guns and raised the scalp 
halloo ! This is a long yell for every scalp that has been 
taken, followed by a rapid succession of shrill, quick, 
piercing shrieks, somewhat resembling laughter in its 
most excited tones. They were answered from the In- 
dian camp below by a discharge of rifles and a long 
whoop, followed by shrill cries of joy; and all thronged 
out to meet the party. Smith expected instant death 
at their hands, as they crowded around him ; but to his 
surprise, no one offered him any violence. They be- 
longed to another tribe, and entertained the party in 
their camp with great hospitality, respecting the prisoner 
as the property of their guests. 

On the following morning Smith's captors continued 
their march, and on the evening of the next day arrived 
at Fort Du Quesne, now Pittsburgh. When within half 
a mile of the fort, they again raised the scalp halloo, 
and fired their guns as before. Instantly the whole 
garrison was in commotion. The cannon were fired, 
the drums were beaten, and French and Indians ran out 
in great numbers to meet the party and partake of their 
triumph. Smith was again surrounded by a multitude 
of savages, painted in various colors, and shouting with 
delight; but their demeanor was by no means as pacific 
as that of the last party he had encountered. They 
rapidly formed in two long lines, and, brandishing their 
hatchets, ramrods, switches, etc., called aloud upon him 
to run the gauntlet. 

Never having heard of this Indian ceremony before, 
lie stood amazed for some time, not knowing what to do; 
but one of his captors explained to him that he was to 
run between the two lines, and receive a blow from each 
Indian as he passed, concluding his explanation by ex- 
horting him to "run his best," as the faster he run 
the sooner the affair would be over. This truth was 
very plain, and young Smith entered upon his race with 
great spirit. He was switched very handsomely along 
the lines for about three-fourths of the distance, the 
stripes only acting as a spur to greater exertions ; and 
he had almost reached the opposite extremity of the 



16 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

line, when a tall chief struck him a furious blow with a 
club upon the back of the head, and instantly felled 
him to the ground. Recovering himself in a moment, 
he sprung to his feet and started forward again, when a 
handful of sand was thrown in his eyes, which, in ad- 
dition to the great pain, completely blinded him. He 
still attempted to grope his way through, but was again 
knocked down and beaten with merciless severity. He 
soon became insensible under such barbarous treatment, 
and recollected nothing more until he found himself in 
the hospital of the fort, under the hands of a French 
surgeon, beaten to a jelly, and unable to move a limb. 
Here he was quickly visited by one of his captors — the 
same who had given him such good advice when about 
to commence his race. 

He now inquired, with some interest, if he felt "very 
sore." Young Smith replied that he had been bruised 
almost to death, and asked what he had done to merit 
such barbarity. The Indian replied that he had done 
nothing, but that it was the customary greeting of the 
Indians to their prisoners; that it was something like 
the English "How d'ye do?" and that now all cere- 
mony would be laid aside and he would be treated 
with kindness. Smith inquired if they had any news 
of General Braddock. The Indian replied that their 
scouts saw him every day from the mountains ; that he 
was advancing in close columns through the woods 
(this he indicated by placing a number of red sticks 
parallel to each other, and pressed closely together) ; 
and that the Indians would be able to shoot them dowm 
"like pigeons" 

Smith rapidly recovered, and was soon able to walk 
upon the battlements of the fort, with the aid of a stick. 
While engaged in this exercise, on the morning of the 
ninth of July, he observed an unusual bustle in the fort. 
The Indians stood in crowds at the great gate, armed 
and painted. Many barrels of powder, ball, flints, etc., 
were brought out to them, from which each warrior 
helped himself to such articles as he required. They 
were soon joined by a small detachment of French reg- 
ulars, when the whole party marched off together. He 



JAMES SMITH. 17 

had a full view of them as they passed, and was confi- 
dent that they could not exceed four hundred men. He 
soon learned that it was detached against Braddock, 
who was now within a few miles of the fort ; but from 
their great inferiority in numbers, he regarded their 
destruction as certain, and looked joyfully to the ar- 
rival of Braddock in the evening as the hour which 
was to deliver him from the power of the Indians. In 
the afternoon, however, an Indian runner arrived with 
far different intelligence. The battle had not yet 
ended when he left the field, but he announced that 
the English had been surrrounded, and were shot down 
in heaps by an invisible enemy ; that instead of flying 
at once, or rushing upon their concealed foe, they ap- 
peared completely bewildered, huddled together in the 
center of the ring, and that before sundown there 
would not be a man of them alive. 

This intelligence fell like a thunderbolt upon Smith, 
who now saw himself irretrievably in the power of the 
savages, and could look forward to nothing but torture 
or end less captivity. He waited anxiously for further 
intelligence, still hoping that the fortune of the day 
might change. But about sunset, he heard at a dis- 
tance the well-known scalp halloo, followed by wild, 
quick, joyful shrieks, and accompanied by long-con- 
tinued firing. This too surely announced the fate of 
the day. About dusk the party returned to the fort, 
driving before them twelve British regulars, stripped 
naked, and with their faces painted black! an evidence 
that the unhappy wretches were devoted to death. 

Next came the Indians, displaying their bloody 
scalps — of which they had immense numbers — and 
dressed in the scarlet coats, sashes, and military hats 
of the officers and soldiers. Behind all came a train of 
baggage horses, laden with piles of scalps, canteens, 
and all the accouterments of British soldiers. The 
savages appeared frantic with joy, and when Smith 
beheld them entering the fort dancing, yelling, brandish- 
ing their red tomahawks, and waving their scalps in the 
air, while the great guns of the fort replied to the in- 
cessant discharge of rifles without, he says that it looked 



18 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

as if h — 11 had given a holiday and turned loose its in- 
habitants upon the upper world. 

The most melancholy spectacle was the band of pris- 
oners. They appeared dejected and anxious. Poor fel- 
lows ! They had but a few months before left London, at 
the command of their superiors, and we may easily im- 
agine their feelings at the strange and dreadful spectacle 
around them. The yells of delight and congratulation 
were scarcely over when those of vengeance began. 
The devoted prisoners — British regulars — were led out 
from the fort to the banks of the Alleghany, and to 
the eternal disgrace of the French commandant, were 
there burnt to death, one after another, with the most 
awful tortures. 

Smith stood upon the battlements and witnessed the 
shocking spectacle. The prisoner was tied to a stake, 
with his hands raised above his head, stripped naked, 
and surrounded by Indians. They would touch him 
with red-hot irons, and stick his body full of pine splin- 
ters and set them on fire, drowning the shrieks of the 
victim in the yells of delight with which they danced 
around him. His companions in the meantime stood in 
a group near the stake, and had a foretaste of what was 
in reserve for each of them. As fast as one prisoner died 
under his tortures, another filled his place, until the whole 
perished. All this took place so near the fort that every 
scream of the victims must have rung in the ears of the 
French commandant. 

Two or three days after this shocking spectacle, most 
of the Indian tribes dispersed and returned to their 
homes, as is usual with them after a great and decisive 
battle. Young Smith was demanded of the French by 
the tribe to whom he belonged, and was immediately 
surrendered into their hands. 

The party embarked in canoes, and ascended the Al- 
leghany River as far as a small Indian town about forty 
miles above Fort Du Quesne. There they abandoned 
their canoes, and, striking into the woods, traveled in a 
western direction, until they arrived at a considerable 
Indian town in what is now the State of Ohio. This 
village was called Tullihas, and was situated upon the 






JAMES SMITH. 19 

western branch of" the Muskingum. During the whole 
of this period, Smith suffered much anxiety from the 
uncertainty of his future fate ; but at this town all doubt 
was removed. On the morning of his arrival, the prin- 
cipal members of the tribe gathered around him, and 
one old man, with deep gravity, began to pluck out his 
hair by the roots, while the others looked on in silence, 
smoking their pipes with great deliberation. 

Smith did not understand the design of this singular 
ceremony, but submitted very patiently to the man's 
labors, who performed the operation of "picking" him 
with great dexterity, dipping his fingers in ashes occa- 
sionally, in order to take a better hold. In a very few 
moments Smith's head was bald, with the exception of a 
single long tuft upon the center of his crown, called the 
"scalp-lock.'' This was carefully plaited in such a man- 
ner as to stand upright, and was ornamented with sev- 
eral silver brooches. His ears and nose were then bored 
with equal gravity, and ornamented with ear-rings and 
nose-jewels. He was then ordered to strip ; which be- 
ing done, his naked body was painted in various fan- 
tastic colors, and a breech-cloth fastened around his 
loins. A belt of wampum was then fastened around his 
neck, and silver bands around his right arm. 

To all this Smith submitted with much anxiety, being 
totally ignorant of their customs, and dreading lest, like 
the British prisoners, he had been stripped and painted 
for the stake. His alarm was increased, when an old 
chief arose, took him by the arm, and leading him out 
into the open air, gave three shrill whoops, and was 
instantly surrounded by every inhabitant of the village, 
warriors, women, and children. The chief then ad- 
dressed the crowd in a long speech, still holding Smith 
by the hand. When he had ceased speaking, he led 
Smith forward, and delivered him into the hands of 
three young Indian girls, who, grappling him without 
ceremony, towed him off to the river which ran at the 
foot of the hill, dragged him in the water up to his 
breast, and all three suddenly clapping their hands upon 
his head, attempted to put him under. Utterly des- 
perate at the idea of being drowned by these young 



20 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

ladies, Smith made a manful resistance; the squaws 
persevered ; and a prodigious splashing of the water 
took place, amidst loud peals of laughter from the 
shore. 

At length, one of the squaws became alarmed at the 
furious struggles of the young white man, and cried out 
earnestly several times, "No hurt you ! no hurt you !" 
Upon this agreeable intelligence, Smith's resistance 
ceased, and these gentle creatures plunged him under 
the water, and scrubbed him from head to foot with 
equal zeal and perseverance. As soon as they were 
satisfied, they led him ashore and presented him to the 
chief, shivering with cold, and dripping with water. 
The Indians then dressed him in a ruffled shirt, leggins, 
and moccasins, variously ornamented, seated him upon 
a bearskin, and gave him a pipe, tomahawk, tobacco, 
pouch, flint, and steel. The chiefs then took their 
seats by his side, and smoked for several minutes in 
deep silence, when the eldest delivered a speech, 
through an interpreter, in the following words: "My 
son, you are now one of us. Hereafter, you have 
nothing to fear. By an ancient custom, you have been 
adopted in the room of a brave man, who has fallen; 
and every drop of white blood has been washed from 
your veins. We are now your brothers, and are bound 
by our law to love you, to defend you, and to avenge 
your injuries, as much as if you were born in our 
tribe." 

He was then introduced to the members of the family 
into which he had been adopted, and w r as received by 
the whole of them with great demonstrations of regard. 
In the evening, he received an invitation to a jrreat 
feast; and was there presented with a wooden bowl and 
spoon, and directed to fill the former from a huge 
kettle of boiled corn and hashed venison. The evening 
concluded with a war dance, and on the next morning 
the warriors of the tribe assembled, and leaving one or 
tw T o hunters, to provide for their families in their ab- 
sence, the rest marched off for the frontiers of Virginia. 
In leaving the village, the warriors observed the most 
profound silence, with the exception of their leader, 



JAMES SMITH. 21 

who sung the traveling song, as it is called ; and when 
some distance off, they discharged their rifles slowly, 
and in regular succession, beginning in front, and end- 
ing with the rear. As soon as the w r arriors had left 
them, Smith was invited to a dance, in which the Indian 
boys and young unmarried squaws assembled, and en-' 
tertained themselves for several hours together. They 
formed in tw T o lines facing each other, at the distance 
of about twenty feet. One of the young men held a 
gourd in his hand, filled with pebbles, or beads, which 
he rattled in such a manner as to produce music, and 
all the dancers, singing in concert with their leader, 
moved forward in a line until the parties met; then 
retired, and repeated the same exercise for hours, with- 
out the least variation. 

Young Smith was merely a spectator in this scene, 
and his chief entertainment arose from observing the 
occasional symptoms of gailantry and coquetry which 
diversified the monotony of the dance. Heads were 
often bent close together as the two lines met, and soft 
wdiispers, ogling glances, and an occasional gentle tap 
on the. cheek, convinced Smith, that Indians are not so 
insensible to the charms of their squaws as has been 
represented. An Indian courtship is somewhat differ- 
ent from ours. With them, all the coyness, reserve, 
and pretty delays, are confined to the gentlemen. The 
young squaws are bold, forward, and by no means 
delicate in urging their passion ; and a particularly 
handsome or promising young hunter is often reduced 
to desperate extremities, to escape the toils of these 
female Lotharios. Smith was uniformly treated with 
the greatest kindness, and was for some time particu- 
larly distressed by the pressing invitations to eat, which 
he received from all quarters. 

With the Indians, it is uniformly the custom to 
invite every visitor to eat, as soon as he enters the 
wigwam ; and if he refuses, they are much offended, 
regarding it as an evidence of hostility to them, and 
contempt for their housekeeping. Smith, ignorant of 
this circumstance, was sometimes pressed to eat twenty 
times in a day, and observing their dark and suspicious 



22 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

glances when lie declined their hospitality, he endeav- 
ored at length to satisfy them at the risk of stuffing 
himself to death. Making it a point to eat with all 
who invited him, he soon found himself in great favor, 
and in the course of a week after his adoption an old 
chief honored him with an invitation to hunt with him. 
Smith readily consented. At the distance of a few 
miles from the village, they discovered a number of 
buffalo tracks. The old Indian regarded them atten- 
tively, and followed them with great caution, stopping 
frequently to listen, and rolling his eyes keenly in every 
direction. Smith, surprised at this singular conduct, 
asked him why he did not push on more rapidly, and 
endeavor to get a shot. " Hush ! " said the Indian, 
shaking his head, " may be buffalo — may be Catawba ! " 

Having at length satisfied himself that they were 
really buffalo, he pushed on more rapidly, and on the 
way, assigned his reasons for his hesitation. He said 
that the Catawbas had long been at war with his tribe, 
and were the most cunning and wicked nation in the 
world. That, a few years ago, they had secretly ap- 
proached his camp in the night, and sent out a few of 
their spies, mounted upon buffalo hoofs, who walked 
round their camp, and then returned to the main body. 
That, in the morning, he and his warriors, perceiving 
their tracks, supposed a herd of buffalo to be ahead of 
them, and moved on rapidly in pursuit. That they 
soon fell into the ambuscade, were fired on by the 
Catawbas, and many of them killed. The Catawbas, 
however, quickly gave way, and were pursued by his 
young men with great eagerness. But they had taken 
the precaution to stick a number of slender reeds in the 
grass, sharpened like a pen, and dipped in rattlesnake's 
poison, that, so as his young men pursued them eagerly, 
most of them were artificially snake-bitten, and lamed. 
That the Catawbas then turned upon them, overpow- 
ered them, and took the scalps of all who had been 
lamed by the reeds. The old man concluded by 
shaking his head, and declaring that " Catawba was a 
very bad Indian ; a perfect devil for mischief." 

Smith, however, was so unfortunate a few days after- 



JAMES SMITH. 23 

ward, as to fall into discredit with these simple people. 
He had been directed to go out and kill some venison 
for the squaws and children, who had suffered for 
several days, during the absence of the greater part of 
the warriors. As this was the first time that he had 
been intrusted with so weighty a commission alone, he 
determined to signalize his hunt by an unusual display 
of skill and enterprise. He, therefore, struck out boldly 
into the woods, and at a few miles distance, falling 
upon a fresh buffalo trail, he pushed on for several 
miles with great eagerness. Despairing, however, of 
overtaking them, as the evening came on he began to 
retrace his steps, and as he had taken a considerable 
circuit, he determined to cut across the hills, and reach 
the village by a shorter way. He soon became inex- 
tricably involved in the mazes of the forest, and at 
dark found himself completely bewildered. He fired 
his gun repeatedly, in hopes of being heard, but his sig- 
nal was unanswered, and he wandered through the woods 
the whole night, totally unable to find his way home. 
•Early in the morning, the Indians, probably suspect- 
ing him for desertion, started out in pursuit of him, 
but observing the zigzag manner in which the young 
woodsman had marched, they soon became satisfied of 
the truth, and their anger was changed to laughter and 
contempt. Smith's rifle was taken from him, and a 
bow and arrow (the weapons of a boy) were placed in 
his hands ; and although he was treated with undi- 
minished kindness by all, yet it was evident that it was 
mingled with compassion and contempt for his igno- 
rance of the woods. He was now placed under the 
particular care of Tontileaugo, his adopted brother, 
and a renowned hunter and warrior. "With the aid of 
his directions, he soon learned all the mysteries of 
hunting. He trapped beaver, killed deer, bear, and 
buffalo with great readiness, and, in the course of the 
winter, rose considerably in reputation. The warriors 
were still absent, and the women and children depended 
on them entirely for subsistence. 

Sometimes they were three days without food ; par- 
ticularly, when the snow became hard, and the noise 
4 



24 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

which they made in walking on the crust frightened 
the deer, so that they could not come within gunshot. 
Their only resource, then, was to hunt bear trees; that 
is, for large hollow trees in which bears lay concealed 
during the winter. The hole is generally from thirty 
to fifty feet from the ground, and they are often com- 
pelled to climb up and apply fire, in order to drive 
Bruin out, who obstinately maintains his ground until 
nearly stifled with smoke, and then, sneezing and snuf- 
fling, and growling, he shows himself at the mouth of 
his hole, for a little fresh air. The hunter stations 
himself below, and fires upon him as soon as he ap- 
pears. Toward spring, the warriors generally return, 
and game is then killed in abundance. 

We shall here pause in our narrative, to mention 
some traits of Indian character and manners, which, 
perhaps, will be interesting to many of our readers, 
who have not had opportunities of informing them- 
selves on the subject. The lives of the men are passed 
in alternate action of the mo-t violent kind, and indo- 
lence the most excessive. Nothing but the pressing 
call of hunger will rouse them to much exertion. 

In the months of August and September, when roast- 
ing-ears are abundant, they abandon themselves to lazi- 
ness, dancing, and gaming, and can rarely be roused, 
even to hunt, so long as their corn-fields will furnish 
them food. During these months they are generally 
seen lying down in idle contemplation, dancing with 
their squaws, playing at foot-ball, or engaged in a game 
resembling dice, of which they are immoderately fond. 
War and hunting are their only serious occupations, 
and all the drudgery of life devolves upon the squaws. 
Smith gave high offense to the warriors by taking a hoe 
into his hands, and working with the squaws for half 
an hour, at a time when they were engaged in planting 
corn. They reprimanded him with some severity for 
his industry, observing, that it was degrading to a war- 
rior to be engaged in labor like a squaw ; and for the 
future he must learn to demean himself more loftily, 
always remembering that he was a member of a war- 
like tribe, and a noble family. 



JAMES SMITH. 25 

They are remarkably hospitable, always offering to a 
stranger the best that they have. If a warrior, upon 
entering a strange wigwam, is not immediately invited 
to eat, he considers himself deeply affronted, although 
he may have just risen from a meal at home. It is not 
enough on these occasions that ordinary food, such as 
venison or hominy, is offered. It is thought rude and 
churlish, not to set before their guest their greatest del- 
icacies, such as sugar, bear's oil, honey, and, if they 
have it, rum. It' there is no food of any kind in the 
house, which is often the case, the fact is instantly 
mentioned, and is at once accepted as a sufficient apol- 
ogy. Smith was so unfortunate as to incur some re- 
proach upon this subject also. While he and his 
adopted brother, Tontileaugo, were encamped in the 
"woods, hunting, there came a hunter of the Wyandott 
tribe, who entered their camp, faint and hungry, 
having had no success in hunting, and, consequently, 
having fasted for several days. 

Tontileaugo was absent at the time, but Smith re- 
ceived the visitor with great hospitality (as he 
thought), and gave him an abundant meal of hominy 
and venison. Shortly after the Wyandott's departure, 
his brother, Tontileaugo, returned, and Smith informed 
him of the visit of the stranger, and of his hospitable 
reception. Tontileaugo listened with gravity, and re- 
plied : "And I suppose, of course, you brought up 
some of the sugar and bear's oil, which was left below 
in the canoe?" "No," replied Smith, "I never 
thought of it ; it w T as at too great a distance." "Well, 
brother," replied Tontileaugo, "you have behaved just 
like a Dutchman! I can excuse it in you for this time, 
as you are young, and have been brought up among 
the white people ; but you must learn to behave like a 
warrior, and never be caught in such little actions ! 
Great actions, alone, can ever make a great man ! " 

Their power of sustaining long-continued fatigue is 
very extraordinary. Even their squaws will travel as 
fast as an ordinary horse, and pack an incredible quan- 
tity of baggage upon their backs. In the spring of 
1756, a great quantity of game had been killed, at a 



26 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

considerable distance from the village ; and all the in- 
habitants, including squaws and boys, turned out to 
bring it home. Smith was loaded with a large piece of 
buffalo, which, after packing two or three miles, he found 
too heavy for him, and was compelled to throw it down. 
One of the squaws laughed heartily, and coming up, 
relieved him of a large part of it, adding it to her own 
pack, which before was equal to Smith's. This, he 
says, stimulated him to greater exertion than the sever- 
est punishment would have done. 

Their warriors, for a short distance, are not swifter 
than the white-*, but are capable of sustaining the exer- 
cise for an incredible length of time. An Indian war- 
rior can run for twelve or fourteen hours without re- 
freshment; and after a hasty meal, and very brief re- 
pose, appears completely refreshed, and ready for a 
second course. Smith found it more difficult to compete 
with them in this respect, than in any other. For 
although he ran with great swiftness for a few miles, 
he could not continue such violent exertion for a whole 
day. While he and his brother, Tontileaugo, were 
encamped at a distance from the others, they were 
much distressed from having to pack their meat from 
such a distance, and as three hordes were constantly 
grazing near them (for there was grass under the snow), 
Tontileaugo proposed that they should run them down, 
and catch them, it having been found impossible to 
take them in any other way. 

Smith, having but little relish for the undertaking, 
urged the impossibility of success. But Tontileaugo 
replied that he had frequently run down bear, deer, 
elk, and buffalo, and believed that, in the course of a 
day and night, he could run down any four-footed ani- 
mal, except the wolf. Smith observed, that, although 
deer were swifter than horses for a short distance, yet, 
that a horse could run much longer than either the elk 
or buffalo, and that he was confident that they would 
tire themselves to no purpose. The other insisted upon 
making the experiment, at any rate ; and at daylight, 
on a cold day in February, and on a hard snow several 
inches deep, the race began. The two hunters stripped 



JAMES SMITH. 27 

themselves to their moccasins, and started at full speed. 
The horses were in very high order, and very wild, but 
contented themselves with running in a circle of six or 
seven miles circumference, and would not entirely aban- 
don their usual grazing ground. 

At ten o'clock, Smith had dropped considerably 
astern, and before eleven, Tontileaugo and the horses 
were out of sight ; the Indian keeping close at their 
heels, and allowing them no time for rest. Smith, 
naked as he was, and glowing wilh exercise, threw 
himself upon the hard snow ; and having cooled himself 
in this manner, he remained stationary until three 
o'clock in the evening, when the horses again came in 
view, their flanks smoking like a seething kettle, and 
Tontileaugo close behind them, running with undimin- 
ished speed. Smith being now perfectly fresh, struck 
in ahead of Tontileaugo, and compelled the horses to 
quicken their speed, while his Indian brother, from be- 
hind, encouraged him to do his utmost, after shouting 
"Chako! chokoa-nough ! " (pull away! pull away, my 
boy!) 

Had Tontileaugo thought of resting, and committed 
the ^hase to Smith alone, for some hours, and then in 
hb turn relieved him, they might have succeeded; but 
neglecting this plan, they both continued the chase 
until dark, when, perceiving that the horses ran still 
with great vigor, they despaired of success, and re- 
turned to the camp, having tasted nothing since morn- 
ing, and one of them at least having run nearly one 
hundred miles. Tontileaugo was somewhat crest-fallen 
at the result of the race, and grumbled not a little at 
their long wind ; but Smith assured him that they had 
attempted an impossibility, and he became reconciled 
to their defeat. 

Their discipline with regard to their children is not 
remarkably strict. Whipping is rare with them, and 
is considered the most disgraceful of all punishments. 
Ducking in cold water is the ordinary punishment of 
misbehavior ; and as might be expected, their children 
are more obedient in winter than in summer. Smith, 
during his first winter's residence among them, was an 



28 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

eye-witness to a circumstance, which we shall relate as 
a lively example of Indian manners. His brother, 
Tontileaugo, was married to a Wyandott squaw, who 
had had several children by a forme?: husband. One 
of these children offended his step-father in some way, 
who, in requital, gave him the ''strappado," with a 
whip made of buffalo hide. 

The discipline was quite moderate, but the lad 
shouted very loudly, and soon brought out his Wyan- 
dott mother. She instantly took her child's part with 
great animation. It was in vain that the husband ex- 
plained the offense, and urged the moderation with 
which he had inflicted the punishment. All would not 
do. " The child," she said, " w T as no slave, to be beaten 
and scourged with a whip. His father had been a 
■warrior, and a Wyandott, and his child was entitled to 
honorable usage. If he had offended his step-father, 
there was cold water enough to be had; let him be 
ducked until he would be brought to reason, and she 
Avould not utter a word of complaint; but a 'buffalo 
tug' was no weapon with which the son of a warrior 
ought to be struck : his father's spirit was frowning in 
the skies at the degradation of his child." 

Tontileaugo listened with great calmness to this in- 
dignant remonstrance ; and, having lit his pipe, strolled 
off, in order to give his squaw an opportunity of becom- 
ing cool. The offense, however, had been of too serious 
a nature, and his squaw, shortly after his departure, 
caught a horse, and, taking her children with her, rode 
off to the Wyandott village, about forty miles distant. 
In the afternoon, Tontileaugo returned to his wigwam, 
and found no one there but Smith, an old man, and a 
boy. He appeared much troubled at his squaw's re- 
fractory conduct, uttered some deep interjections, but 
finally did as most husbands are compelled to do — fol- 
lowed her to make his peace. 

They are remarkably superstitious, and hold their 
" conjurers" in great veneration. These dignitaries are 
generally old and decrepid. On the borders of Lake 
Erie, one evening, a squaw came running into camp, 
where Smith, Tontileaugo, and a few others were repos- 



JAMES SMITH. 29 

ing, after a long day's journey, and alarmed them with 
the information, that two strange Indians, armed with 
rifles, were standing upon the opposite shore of a small 
creek, and appeared to be reconnoitering the camp. It 
was supposed they were Johnston Mohawks, and that 
they would shortly be attacked. Instantly the women 
and children were sent into the woods, and the warriors 
retired from the light of the fires, taking their stations 
silently in the dark, and awaiting the enemy's approach. 

Manetohcoa, their old conjurer, alone remained by 
the fire, regardless of the danger, and busily employed 
in his necromantic art. To assist him in his labors, he 
had dyed feathers, the shoulder-blade of a wild cat, and 
a large quantity of leaf tobacco. Thus accoutered, he 
conjured away, with great industry, in the light of the 
fire, and exposed to the most imminent danger in case 
of an attack, as he was very lame, totally deaf, and 
miserably rheumatic. After a few minutes' anxious 
expectation, old Manetohcoa called aloud upon his 
frieuds to return to the fire, assuring them that there 
was no danger. They instantly obeyed with the utmost 
confidence, and their squaws and children were recalled, 
as if no further danger was to be apprehended. Upon 
coming up, they found old Manetohcoa enveloped in 
tobacco smoke, and holding the bone of the wild cat in 
his hand, upon which his eyes were fixed with great 
earnestness. 

He told them, after having burnt his feathers, fumi- 
gated himself with the tobacco, heated his blade bone, 
and pronounced his charm, that he expected to see a 
multitude of Mohawks arise upon the surface of the 
bone; but, to his surprise, he saw only the figures of 
two wolves ! He assured them that the woman had 
mistaken the wolves for Mohawks, and that no enemy 
was near them. The Indians instantly composed them- 
selves to rest, relying confidently upon the truth of the 
old man's assertions. In the morning, to Smith's as- 
tonishment, the tracks of tw r o wolves were seen at the 
spot where the squaw's account had placed the Mo- 
hawks. The Indians expressed no surprise at this 
extraordinary confirmation of the old man's skill in 



30 WESTERN ADVENTURE, 

divination ; but Smith's infidelity was powerfully- 
shaken! Admitting the truth of the facts (and from 
Colonel Sin i tli's high reputation for piety and integrity, 
we presume they can not be questioned), it must be 
acknowledged either an extraordinary instance of sa- 
gacity, or else we must class it among those numerous 
fortunate circumstances which occasionally have stag- 
gered the faith of much more learned men than Colonel 
Smith. Johnston's superstition is well known ; and 
Smith's doubts may at least be pardoned. 

Their military principles are few and simple, but re- 
markable for sagacity, and singularly adapted to the 
character of the warfare in which they are generally 
engaged. Caution, perhaps, rather than boldness, is 
the leading feature of their system. To destroy their 
enemy at the least possible risk to themselves, is their 
great object. They are by no means, as has been some- 
times supposed, destitute of discipline. Their maneu- 
vers are few, but in performing them they are pecu- 
liarly alert, ready, and intelligent. In forming a line, 
in protecting their flanks by bodies arranged en potence, 
or in forming a large hollow square for the purpose of 
making head against a superior force, they are inferior 
to no troops in the world. Each movement is indicated 
by a loud whoop, of peculiar intonation, from their 
leader, and is irregularly but rapidly obeyed. The re- 
sult is order, although during the progress of the move- 
ment the utmost apparent confusion prevails. 

Nothing astonished them more than the pertinacity 
with which Braddock adhered to European tactics, in 
the celebrated battle on the banks of the Monongahela. 
They often assured Smith that the Long Knives were 
fools ; that they could neither fight nor run away, but 
drew themselves up in close order, and stood still, as if 
to give their enemies the best possible opportunity of 
shooting them down at their leisure. Grant's masquer- 
ade before the walls of Fort Du Quesne also gave 
them much perplexity. A venerable Caughnewaughga 
chief, who had, in his youth, been a renow T ned warrior 
and counselor, and who excelled all his contemporaries 



JAMES SMITH. 31 

in sagacity and benevolence, frequently told Smith that 
Grant's conduct was to him totally inexplicable. 

This general formed the advance of General Forbes 
in 1777. He marched with great secrecy and celerity 
through the woods, and appeared upon the hill above 
Du Quesne in the night. There he encamped, and, 
by way of bravado, caused the drums to beat and the 
bagpipes to play, as if to inform the enemy of his ar- 
rival. At daylight he was surrounded by Indians, who, 
creeping up under cover of bushes, gullies, etc., nearly 
annihilated his army without any sensible loss to them- 
selves. The old chief observed, " that as the great art 
of war consisted in ambushing and surprising your 
enemy, and preventing yourself from being surprised, 
that Grant had acted like a skillful warrior in coming 
secretly upon them ; but that his subsequent conduct in 
giving (he alarm to his enemy, instead of falling upon 
him with the bayonet, was very extraordinary ; that he 
could only account for it by supposing that Grant, like 
too many other warriors, was fond of rum, and had be- 
come drunk about daylight." 

They have the most sovereign contempt for all book 
learning! Smith was occasionally in the habit of read- 
ing a few elementary English books which he had pro- 
cured from traders, and lost credit among them by his 
fondness for study. 

Nothing, with them, can atone for a practical igno- 
rance of the woods. We have seen, that, for losing 
himself, Smith was degraded from the rank of a war- 
rior and reduced to that of a boy. Two } r ears afterward 
he regained his rank, and was presented with a rifle, as 
a reward for an exhibition of hardihood and presence 
of mind. In company with the old chief, to whom we 
have just referred, and several other Indians, he w T as 
engaged in hunting. A deep snow was upon the 
ground, and the w T eather was tempestuous. On their 
way home, a number of raccoon tracks were seen in the 
snow, and Smith w 7 as directed to follow them and ob- 
serve where they treed. He did so, but they led him 
off to a much greater distance than was supposed, and 
5 



32 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

the hunters were several miles ahead of him when Jhe 
attempted to rejoin them. 

At first their tracks were very plain in the snow, and 
although night approached, and the camp was distant, 
Smith felt no anxiety. But about dusk his situation 
became critical. The weather became suddenly much 
colder, the wind blew a perfect hurricane, and whirl- 
winds of snow blinded his eyes and filled up the tracks 
of his companions. He had with him neither a gun, 
flint, nor steel ; no shelter but a blanket, and no weapon 
but a tomahawk. He plodded on for several hours, 
ignorant of his route, stumbling over logs, and chilled 
with cold, until the snow became so deep as seriously 
to impede his progress, and the flakes fell so thick as 
to render it impossible to see where he was going. He 
shouted aloud for help, but no answer was returned, 
and, as the storm every instant became more outra- 
geous, he began to think that his hour had come. 

Providentially, in stumbling on through the snow, 
he came to a large sycamore with a considerable open- 
ing on the windward side. He hastily crept in, and 
found the hollow sufficiently large to accommodate him 
for the night, if the weather side could be closed so as 
to exclude the snow and wind, which was beating 
against it with great violence. He instantly went to 
work with his tomahawk and cut a number of sticks, 
which he placed upright against the hole, and piled 
brush against it in great quantities, leaving a space 
open for himself to creep in. He then broke up a 
decayed log, and, cutting it into small pieces, pushed 
them, one by one, into the hollow of the tree, and 
lastly crept in himself. With these pieces he stopped 
up the remaining holes of his den, until not a chink was 
left to admit the light. The snow, drifting in large 
quantities, was soon banked up against his defenses, 
and completely sheltered him from the storm, which 
still continued to rage with undiminished fury. He 
then danced violently in the center of his den for two 
hours, until he was sufficiently warmed, and, wrapping 
himself in his blanket, he slept soundly until morning. 

He awoke in utter darkness, and, groping about, he 



JAMES SMITH. 33 

found his door and attempted to push it away, but the 
snow had drifted against it in such quantities that it 
resisted his utmost efforts. His hair now began to 
bristle, and he feared that he had, with great ingenuity, 
contrived to bury himself alive. He laid down again 
for several hours, meditating upon what he should do, 
and whether he should not attempt to cut through the 
tree with his tomahawk; but at length he made one 
more desperate effort to push away the door, and suc- 
ceeded in moving it several inches, when a. great bank 
of snow fell in upon him from above, convincing him 
at once of the immense quantity which had fallen. He 
at length burrowed his way into the upper air, and 
found it broad daylight, and the weather calm and 
mild. The snow lay nearly four feet deep; but he was 
now enabled to see his way clearly, and, by examining 
the barks of the trees, was enabled to return to camp. 

He was received with loud shouts of joy and con- 
gratulation, but not a single question was asked until 
he had dispatched a hearty meal of venison, hominy, 
and sugar. 

The old chief, Tecaughnetanego, whom we have al- 
ready mentioned, then presented him with his own pipe, 
and they all remained silent until Smith had smoked. 
When they saw him completely refreshed, the venerable 
chief addressed him in a mild and affectionate manner 
(for Smith at that time was a mere boy with them), 
and desired to hear a particular account of the manner 
in which he had passed the night. Not a word was 
spoken until Smith concluded his story, and then he 
was greeted on all sides with shouts of approbation. 

Tecaughnetanego arose and addressed him in a short 
speech, in which his courage, hardihood, and presence 
of mind, were highly commended. He was exhorted to 
go on as he had begun, and assured that one day he 
would make a very great man; that all his brothers 
rejoiced in his safety, as much as they had lamented 
his supposed death ; that they were preparing snow- 
shoes to go in search of him when he appeared ; but, 
as he had been brought up effeminately among the 
whites, they never expected to see him alive. In con- 



34 WESTERN A D VENT UBE. 

elusion, he was promoted from the rank of a boy to 
that of a warrior, and assured that, when they sold 
skins in the spring, at Detroit, they would purchase 
for hi in a new rifle. And they faithfully observed 
their promise. 

They are extravagantly fond of rum ; but drinking 
does not w T ith them, as with the whites, form a part of 
the regular business of life. They occasionally indulge 
in a wild and frantic revel, which sometimes lasts sev- 
eral days, and then return to their ordinary habits. 
They can not husband their liquor, for the sake of pro- 
longing the pleasure of toping. It is used with the 
most reckless profusion while it lasts, and all drink to 
beastly intoxication. Their squaws are as fond of liquor 
as the warriors, and share in all their excesses. 

After the party to which Smith belonged had sold 
their beaver skins, and provided themselves with am- 
munition and blankets, all their surplus cash was ex- 
pended in rum, which was bought by the keg. They 
then held a council, in which a few strong-bodied hunt- 
ers were selected to remain sober, and protect the rest 
during the revel, for which they were preparing. Smith 
was courteously invited to get drunk, but upon his re- 
fusal, he was told that he must then join the sober 
party, and assist in keeping order. This, as he quickly 
found, was an extremely dangerous office; but before 
engaging in the serious business of drinking, the war- 
riors carefully removed their tomahawks and knives, 
and took every precaution against bloodshed. A shock- 
ing scene then commenced. Rum was swallowed in 
immense quantities, and their wild passions were stim- 
ulated to frenzy! Smith and the sober party, were 
exposed to the most imminent peril, and were com- 
pelled to risk their lives every moment. Much injury 
was done, but no lives were lost. 

In the Ottawa camp, where the same infernal orgies 
were celebrated, the result was more tragical. Several 
warriors were killed on the spot, and a number more 
wounded. So long as they had money, the revel was 
kept up day and night, but when their funds were ex- 
hausted, they gathered up their dead and wounded, 






JAMMl SMITH. 35 

and, with dejected countenances, returned to the wil- 
derness. All had some cause of lamentation. The 
blanket of one had been burnt, and he had no money 
to buy another ; the fine clothes of another had been 
torn from his back ; some had been maimed ; and all 
had improvidently wasted their money. 

The religion of the Indians, although defaced by 
superstition, and intermingled with many rites and no- 
tions which, to us, appear absurd, contain?, neverthe- 
less, a distinct acknowledgment of the existence of a 
Supreme Being, and a future state. The various tribes 
are represented by Dr. Robertson as polytheists; and 
Mr. Hume considers polytheism as inseparably attend- 
ant upon the savage state. It appears, however, that 
the Western Indians approached more nearly to simple 
deism than most savage nations with whom we have 
been heretofore acquainted. One Great Spirit is uni- 
versally worshiped throughout the West; although 
different tribes give him different names. In the im- 
mense prairies of the West, he is generally termed the 
Waheondah, or master of life. With the Indians of 
the lakes, he was generally termed Manito, which, we 
believe, means simply ''The Spirit." In the language 
of Smith's tribe he was known by the title of " Owa- 
neeyo," or the possessor of all things. 

Human sacri rices are very common among the tribes 
living west of the Mississippi; but I have seen no evi- 
dence of such a custom among tho>e of the North-west. 

Tecaughnetanego, the veeran chief whom we have 
already mentioned, was esteemed the wisest and most 
venerable of his own nation ; and his religious opin- 
ions, perhaps, may be regarded as a very favorable 
sample of Indian theology. We shall take the liberty 
of detailing several conversations of this old chief, par- 
ticularly upon religious subjects, which to us were the 
most interesting passages of Smith's diary; growing, as 
they did, out of a situation which required the exercise 
of some philosophy and reliance upon Providence. We 
have already advened to the precarious nature of the 
Indian supplies of food, dependent, as they are, upon 
the woods for their meat, and liable to frequent failures 



36 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

from the state of the weather, and other circumstances 
over which they have no control. 

It so happened that Smith, together with Tontileaugo 
and the old chief, Tecaughnetaiiego, were encamped at 
a great distance from the rest of the tribe, and during 
the early part of the winter they were very successful 
in hunting, and were abundantly supplied with all 
necessaries. Upon the breach between Tontileaugo and 
his wife, however, Smith and the old chief were left in 
the woods, with no other company than that of Nun- 
gany, a little son of the latter, not more than ten years 
old. Tecaughnetaiiego, notwithstanding his age (which 
exceeded sixty), was still a skillful hunter, and capable 
of great exertion when in good health ; but, unfortu- 
nately, was subject to dreadful attacks of rheumatism, 
during which, in addition to the most excruciating 
pain, he was incapable of moving his limbs, or helping 
himself in any way. Smith was but a young hunter, 
and Nungany totally useless except as a cook ; but while 
Tecaughnetanego retained the use of his limbs, notwith- 
standing the loss of Tontileaugo, they killed game very 
abundantly. 

About the middle of January, however, the weather 
became excessively cold, and the old chief was stretched 
upon the floor of his wigwam, totally unable to move. 
The whole care of the family now devolved upon Smith, 
and his exertions were not wanting. But from his 
youth and inexperience, he was unable to provide as 
plentifully as Tontileaugo had done, and they were re- 
duced to very short allowance. The old chief, notwith- 
standing the excruciating pain which he daily suffered, 
always strove to entertain Smith, at night, with agreea- 
ble conversation, and instructed him carefully and re- 
peatedly in the art of hunting. At length the snow 
became hard and crusty, and the noise of Smith's foot- 
steps frightened the deer, so that, with the utmost cau- 
tion he could use, he was unable to get within gunshot. 
The family, in consequence, were upon the eve of star- 
vation. 

One evening Smith entered the hut, faint and weary, 
after a hunt of two days, during which he had eaten 



JAMES SMITH. 37 

nothing. Tecaughnetanego had fasted for the same 
length of time, and both had been upon short allow- 
ance for a week. Smith came in very moodily, and 
laying aside his gun and powder-horn, sat down by the 
fire in silence. Tecaughnetanego inquired mildly and 
calmly, what success he had had. Smith answ r ered that 
they must starve, as the deer were so wild that he could 
not get within gunshot, and it was too far to go to any 
Indian settlement for food. The old man remained silent 
for a moment, and then, in the same mild tone, asked 
him if he was hungry? Smith replied, that the keen 
appetite seemed gone, but that he felt sick and dizzy, 
and scarcely able to walk. "I have made Nungany 
hunt up some food for you, brother," said the old man 
kindly, and bade him produce it. This food was noth- 
ing more than the bones of a fox and wild-cat, which 
had been thrown into the woods a few days before, and 
which the buzzards had already picked almost bare. 

Nungany had collected and boiled them, until the 
sinews were stripped of the flesh, intending them for 
himself and father, both of whom were nearly fam- 
ished ; but the old man had put them away for Smith, 
in case he should again return without food. Smith 
quickly threw himself upon this savory soup, and swal- 
lowed spoonful after spoonful with the voracity of a 
wolf. Tecaughnetanego waited patiently until he had 
finished his meal, which continued until the last spoon- 
ful had been swallowed, and then handing him his own 
pipe, invited him to smoke. Little Nungany, in the 
meantime, removed the kettle, after looking in vain 
for some remnant of the feast for his own supper. He 
had watched every mouthful which Smith swallowed 
with eager longing, but in perfect silence, and finding 
that, for the third night, he must remain supperless, 
he sat down quietly at his father's feet, and was soon 
asleep. 

Tecaughnetanego, as soon "as Smith had smoked, 
asked him if he felt refreshed ; and upon receiving an 
animated assurance in the affirmative, he addressed 
him mildly as follows: "I saw, my brother, when you 
first came in, that you had been unfortunate in hunt- 



38 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

ing, and were ready to despair. I should have spoken 
at the time, what I am now about to say, but I have 
always observed that hungry people are not in a temper 
to listen to reason. You are now refreshed, and can 
listen patiently to the -words of your elder brother. I 
was once young like you, but am now old. I have 
seen sixty snows fall, and have often been in a worse 
condition, from want of food, than we now are ; yet I 
have always been supplied, and that, too, at the very 
time when I was ready to despair. Brother: you have 
been brought up among the whites, and have not had 
the same opportunities of seeing how wonderfully Owa- 
neeyo provides food- for his children in the woods ! He 
sometimes lets them be in great want, to teach them 
that they are dependent upon him, and to remind them 
of their own weakness ; but he never permits them ab- 
solutely to perish. Rest assured that your brother is 
telling you no lie ; but be satisfied that he will do as I. 
have told you. Go now ; sleep soundly ; ri^e early in 
the morning and go out to hunt ; be strong and dili- 
gent; do your best, and trust to Owaneeyo for the 
rest." 

When we recollect that this admirable speech came 
from a wild Indian, totally uninstructed, and untaught 
to restrain his passions ; that, at the very time, he was 
suffering the most excruciating pain, both from disease 
and hunger ; that he had denied himself a morsel of 
food, in order to bestow it upon Smith ; and, lastly, 
that from the state of the snow and Smith's inexperi- 
ence, he had no human prospect of relief; it is no ex- 
aggeration to say, that a more striking example of 
wisdom, mildness, and magnanimity, was never ex- 
hibited. 

Smith was powerfully struck by the old man's rea- 
soning; and still more affected by the patience and 
firmness with which he sustained himself, under the 
complicated suffering with which he was visited. In 
the morning, at daylight, he seized his gun, and com- 
menced the duties of the day with great spirit. He 
saw a great many deer, but the crashing of the crust 
alarmed them as heretofore ; and after hunting until 



JAMES SMITH. 39 

noon without success, he began to suspect that Tecaugh- 
netanego must have been mistaken, and that they were 
certainly destined to starve. His hunger seemed rather 
whetted than allayed by his sumptuous repast upon 
wild-cat bones, the evening before, and now became so 
ravenous as to divest him of all reason, and he deter- 
mined to run back to Pennsylvania. True, the inter- 
vening country was crowded with hostile Indians, but 
the edge of the tomahawk was not keener than that of 
hunger; and a sharp and quick death infinitely prefer- 
able to the slow and torturing ravages of starvation. 

Having hastily adopted this desperate resolution, he 
quickened his pace, and moved off steadily in the direc- 
tion of Pennsylvania. He had not gone more than 
seven or eight miles, before he heard the lowing of buf- 
falo in front, and in a few minutes, came in view of a 
noble heard, marching leisurely ahead of him. He ran 
with great rapidity in such a direction as to head them, 
and concealing himself in a thicket, awaited their ap- 
proach. They passed leisurely within a few yards of 
him, so that he had an opportunity of selecting a fat 
heifer, which he killed at the first fire. He quickly 
struck fire from his flint — and cutting a few slices from 
the fleshiest part, he laid it upon the coals, but could 
not w r ait until it was done. After gorging himself with 
raw beef, which (with the exception of the wild-cat 
bones of the preceding night) he thought the most de- 
licious food he had ever tasted, he began to be tenderly 
concerned for the old man and little boy, whom he had 
left in a famishing condition at the wigwam. 

His conscience reproached him for leaving them to 
perish ; and he instantly loaded himself heavily with 
the fattest and fleshiest pieces, and having secured the 
rest from the wolves, returned to their camp, with as 
much expedition as he could exert. It was late at 
night when he entered the wigwam. Tecaughnetanego 
received him with the same mild equanimity which 
had heretofore distinguished him, and thanked him 
very affectionately for the exertions which he had used, 
while the eyes of the famished boy were fastened upon 
the beef as if he would devour it raw. His father 



40 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

ordered him to hang on the kettle and cook some beef 
for them all; but Smith declared that he himself 
would cook for the old man, while Nungany broiled 
some meat upon the coals for himself. The boy 
looked eagerly at his father for his consent, and re- 
ceiving a nod in reply, he sprung upon the meat as 
a kite would pounce upon a pullet, and unable to wait 
for the slow operation of the fire, began to eat it raw. 

Smith, in the meantime, had cut several very 
thin slices and placed them in the kettle to boil ; but 
supposing Tecanghnetanego as impatient as himself, 
he was about to take it off the fire after a very few 
minutes, when the old man, in a tone as calm and 
quiet as if he had not fasted for three whole days, 
desired him to " let it be done enough." At the same 
time he ordered Nungauy, who was still eating like a 
shark, to take no more at present, but to sit down, 
and after a few minutes he might sup a little broth. 
The old man then reminded Smith of their conver- 
sation the night before; and of the striking truth 
with which his assurance of Owaneeyo's goodness had 
been accomplished. At length he desired Smith to 
give him the beef, observing that it had been boiled 
enough ; and, as if he had reserved all his vigor for 
that moment, he assaulted it with a keenness and per- 
severance which showed that the gifts of Owaneeyo 
were not thrown away. 

In the morning, Tecanghnetanego requested Smith 
to return to the spot where he had killed the buffalo, 
and bring in the rest of it to camp. He accordingly 
took down his rifle and entered the wood, intending 
to hunt on the road. At the distance of a few miles 
from camp, he saw a large elm, which had been much 
scratched, and perceiving a hole in it at the distance 
of forty feet from the ground, he supposed that a 
bear had selected it for his winter-quarters, and in- 
stantly determined to rouse him from his slumbers. 
With his tomahawk, he cut down a sapling which 
grew near the tree, in such a manner as to lodge it 
against the den. He then cut a long pole, and tied a 
few bunches of rotten wood to the end of it. Taking 



JAMES SMITH. 41 

it then in his hand, he climbed the sapling, until he 
reached the mouth of the den, and setting fire to the 
rotten wood, put it into the hollow as far as he could 
reach. He soon had the gratification of hearing poor 
Bruin sneeze and cough, as if in great trouble; and 
rapidly sliding down the sapling, he seized his gun at 
the moment the bear showed himself. He instantly 
shot him, and having loaded himself with the hind- 
quarters, he marched back in high spirits to the wig- 
wam. They were now avcII provided for a week ; 
and in a few days the snow thawed so much as to 
enable him to kill deer; so that, during the rest of 
the winter, they fared sumptuously. 

Early in April, Tecaughnetan ego's rheumatism had 
abated so much as to permit him to walk, upon which, 
they all three built a bark canoe, and descended the 
Ollentangy, until the water became so shallow as to 
endanger their frail bark among the rocks. A coun- 
cil was then held, in which Tecaughnetanego proposed 
to go ashore, and pray for rain to raise the creek or 
river so as to enable them to continue their journey. 
Smith readily consented, and they accordingly disem- 
barked, drawing their canoe ashore after them. Here 
the old Indian built a "sweating house," in order to 
purify himself, before engaging in his religious duties. 

He stuck a number of semicircular hoops in the 
ground, and laid a blanket over them. He then 
heated a number of large stones, and placed them 
under the blanket, and finally cniwled in himself, 
with a kettle of water in his hand, directing Smith to 
draw T down the blanket after him, so as almost entirely 
to exclude the external air. He then poured the 
water upon the hot stones, and began to sing aloud 
with great energy, the steam rising from the blanket 
like a heavy mist. In this hot place he continued for 
fifteen minutes, singing the whole time, and then 
came out dripping with perspiration from head to 
foot. As soon as he had taken breath, he began to 
burn tobacco, throwing it into the fire by handfuls, 
at the same time repeating the following words in a 
toue of deep and solemn earnestness: 



42 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

"O Great Owaneeyo! I thank thee that I have 
regained the use of my legs once more; that I am 
now able to walk about and kill turkeys, without 
feeling exquisite pain. Oh! ho! ho! ho! Grant that 
my knees and ankles may be right well, that I may 
be able not only to walk, but to run and to jump 
logs, as I did last fall! Oh! ho! ho! ho! Grant 
that, upon this voyage we may frequently kill bears 
as they may be crossing the Sandusky and Scioto! 
Oh ! ho ! ho ! ho ! Grant that we may also kill a 
few turkeys to stew with our bear's meat ! Oh ! ho ! 
ho ! ho ! Grant that rain may come to raise the 01- 
lentangy a few feet, that we may cross in safety 
down to Scioto, without splitting our canoe upon the 
rocks! And now, O Great Owaneeyo! thou knowest 
how fond I am of tobacco, and though I do not know 
when I shall get any more, yet you see that I have 
freely given up all that I have for a burnt-offering ; 
therefore, I expect that thou wilt be merciful and 
hear all my petitions; and I, thy servant, will thank 
thee, and love thee for all thy gifts." 

Smith held the chief in great veneration, and has 
observed, that he never in his life listened to a man 
who reasoned more clearly and powerfully upon such 
subjects as came before him ; and he heard the first 
part of his prayer with great respect and due gravity ; 
but when the attention of Owaneeyo was called to the 
tobacco, which his votary bestowed upon him so liber- 
ally, his muscles gave way, and in spite of his efforts 
to restrain himself, he burst into a low and half stifled 
laugh. Ridicule is at all times formidable, but par- 
ticularly so in a moment of enthusiasm and sincere 
devotion. Tecaughnetanego was deeply and seriously 
offended, and rebuked his young companion in the 
following words: 

"Brother, I have somewhat to say to you! When 
you were reading your books in our village, you know 
I would not let the boys plague you, or laugh at 
you, although we all thought it a foolish and idle 
occupation in a warrior. I respected your feelings 
tlien; but just now I saw you laughing at me! 



JAMES SMITH. 43 

Brother, I do not believe that you look upon praying 
as a silly custom, for you sometimes pray yourself. 
Perhaps you think my mode of praying foolish, but if 
so, would it not be more friendly to reason with me, 
and instruct me, than to sit on that log and laugh at 
an old man?" 

Smith apologized with great earnestness, declaring 
that he respected and loved him sincerely, but that 
when he saw him throw the last of his tobacco into 
the fire, and recollected how iond he was of it, he 
could not help smiling a little, although for the future 
he would never have reason to complain of him on 
that account. The old man, without saying a word, 
handed him his pipe as a token of friendship, although 
it was filled only with willow bark; and the little 
difference was soon forgotten. 

Smith then explained to him the outlines of the 
Christian religion, and dwelt particularly upon the 
doctrine of reconciliation through the atonement of 
Christ. Tecaughnetanego listened with patience and 
gravity until his companion had ended his remarks, 
and then calmly -observed, that "it might be so!" He 
even acknowledged, "that it did not appear so absurd 
as the doctrine of the Romish priests, which he had 
heard at Detroit, but declared that he was too old now 
to change his religion ; that he should, therefore, con- 
tinue to worship God after the manner of his fathers; 
and if it was not consistent with the honor of the Great 
Spirit to accept of him in that way, then he hoped that 
he would receive him upon such terms as were accept- 
able to him; that it was his earnest and sincere desire 
to worship the Great Spirit, and obey his wishes, and 
he hoped that Owaneeyo would overlook such faults as 
arose from ignorance and weakness, not willful neglect," 
To a speech of this kind, the sentiments of which find 
an echo in almost every breast, Smith could make no 
reply. Here, therefore, the subject ended. 

A few days afterward, there came a fine rain, and 
the Ollentangy was soon sufficiently deep to admit of 
their passage in safety, and after reaching the San- 
dusky they killed four bears and a great many wild 



44 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

turkeys. Tecaughnetanego gravely assured Smith, 
that this was a clear and direct answer to his prayer, 
and inferred from it, that his religion could not be as 
unacceptable to Owaneeyo as Smith supposed. Per- 
haps it would be difficult to disprove the first part of 
the old Indian's observation ; the last is more question- 
able. 

We have already gleaned all the most interesting 
parts of Smith's narrative, for the long details of hunt- 
ings, trappings, and migrations, without particular 
object or inci'ient, would scarcely be interesting to the 
reader. We have endeavored to select such circum- 
stances, as woul I give the general reader a lively idea 
of the habits and opinions of the Western Indians, 
without burdening our narrative with too much detail. 
As most, if not all, the subsequent adventures, will 
have a close connection with Indian life, it was thought 
proper to commence with a narrative which should 
throw some light upon that subject. It is only neces- 
sary, further, to observe, that in the summer of 1759, 
and in the fourth year of his captivity, or rather, adop- 
tion, Smith, accompanied by Tecaughnetanego and 
Nungany, sailed in a bark canoe down the St. Law r - 
rence, as far as Montreal. 

Here he privately left his Indian companions, and 
went on board a French transport, which he had heard 
was about to sail, with a number of English prisoners 
on board, intended to be exchanged. After having 
been detained some time in Montreal, in consequence 
of the English fleet being below T , he was at length ex- 
changed and returned to his native country. His 
family and sweetheart received him with great joy ; 
but to his inexpressible mortification, the latter had 
been married only a few days before his arrival. His 
subsequent adventures, although novel and interesting, 
do not properly come within the range of our present 
subject. We refer the reader, who may desire to know 
more, to Colonel Smith's own narrative, which has re- 
cently been reprinted. 



DANIEL BOONE. 45 



CHAPTER II. 

THE adventures which, in order of time, should come 
next, are those of the celebrated Daniel Boone; 
for of Findley — said to be the first white man who ever 
visited Kentucky — nothing is known but the simple 
fact that he did visit it, first alone, and afterward in 
company with Boone. It is much to be regretted that 
the materials for a sketch of Boone are so scanty. He 
has left us a brief account of his adventures, but they 
are rather such as one would require for the composition 
of an epitaph than of a biography. The leading in- 
cidents are mentioned in a general way ; and there are 
some gaudy and ambitious sketches of scenery which 
swell the bulk of the piece without either pleasing the 
imagination or gratifying the curiosity. Jt would seem 
that the brief notes of the plain old woodsman had been 
committed to some young sciolist in literature, who 
thought that flashy description could atone for barren- 
ness of incident. 

A general summary of remarkable events neither ex- 
cites nor gratifies curiosity like a minute detail of all the 
circumstances connected with them. This trait, so es- 
sential to the interest of narratives, and of which per- 
haps the most splendid example in existence has been 
given in Mr. Cooper's ''Last of the Mohicans," is de- 
plorably wanting in most of the materials to which we 
have had access. A novelist may fill up the blank from 
his own imagination ; but a writer who professes to ad- 
here to truth is fettered down to the record before him. 
If, therefore, in the following details, we should be found 
guilty of the unpardonable sin of dullness, we hope 
that at least a portion of the blame will fall upon the 
scantiness of the materials. 



DANIEL BOONE. 47 

from the fierce conflicts which generally followed these 
casual rencounters, the country had been known among 
them by the name of " the dark and bloody ground!" The 
two adventurers soon learned the additional danger to 
which they were exposed. While roving carelessly from 
canebrake to canebrake, and admiring the rank growth 
of vegetation, and the variety of timber which marked the 
fertility of the soil, they were suddenly alarmed by the 
appearance of a party of Indians, who, springing from 
their place of concealment, rushed upon them with a 
rapidity which rendered escape impossible. 

They were almost instantly seized, disarmed, and 
made prisoners. Their feelings may be readily imag- 
ined. They were in the hands of an enemy who knew 
no alternative between adoption and torture; and the 
numbers and fleetness of their captors rendered escape 
by open means impossible, while their jealous vigilance 
seemed equally fatal to any secret attempt. Boone, 
however, was possessed of a temper admirably adapted 
to the circumstances in which he was placed. Of a 
cold and saturnine, rather than an ardent disposition, 
he was never either so much elevated by good fortune 
or depressed by bad as to lose for an instant the full 
possession of all his faculties. He saw that immediate 
escape was impossible; but he encouraged his compan- 
ion, and constrained himself to accompany the Indians 
in all their excursions with so calm and contented an 
air that their vigilance insensibly began to relax. 

On the seventh evening of their captivity, they en- 
camped in a thick canebrake, and, having built a large 
fire, lay down to rest. The party whose duty it w r as to 
watch were weary and negligent, and about midnight, 
Boone, who had not closed an eye, ascertained from the 
deep breathing all around him that the whole party, in- 
cluding Stuart, was in a deep sleep. Gently and grad- 
ually extricating himself from the Indians who lay 
around him, he walked cautiously to the spot where 
Stuart lay, and, having succeeded in awakening him 
without alarming the rest, he briefly informed him of 
his determination, and exhorted him to arise, make no 
noise, and follow him. Stuart, although ignorant of 
6 



48 WESTERN ADVENTURE, 

the design, and suddenly roused from sleep, fortunately 
obeyed with equal silence and celerity, and within a few 
minutes they were beyond hearing. 

Kapidly traversing the forest, by the light of the stars 
and the barks of the trees, they ascertained the direc- 
tion in which the camp lay; but upon reaching it on 
the next day, to their great grief they found it plun- 
dered and deserted, with nothing remaining to show the 
fate of their companions : and even to the day of his 
death Boone knew not whether they had been killed or 
taken, or had voluntarily abandoned their cabin and re- 
turned. Here, in a few days, they were accidentally 
joined, by Boone's brother and another man, who had 
followed them from Carolina and fortunately stumbled 
upon their camp. This accidental meeting in the 
bosom of a vast wilderness gave great relief to the two 
brothers, although their joy was soon overcast. 

Boone and Stuart, in a second excursion, were again 
pursued by savages, and Stuart was shot and scalped, 
while Boone fortunately escaped. As usual, he has not 
mentioned particulars, but barely stated the event 
Within a few days they sustained another calamity, if 
possible, still more distressing — their only remaining 
companion was benighted in a hunting excursion, and 
while encamped in the woods alone, was attacked and 
devoured by the wolves. 

The two brothers were thus left in the wilderness 
alone, separated by several hundred miles from home, 
surrounded by hostile Indians, and destitute of every 
thing but their rifles. After having had such melan- 
choly experience of the dangers to which they were 
exposed, we would naturally suppose that their forti- 
tude would have given way, and that they would in- 
stantly have returned to the settlements. But the most 
remarkable feature in Boone's character was a calm and 
cold equanimity, which rarely rose to enthusiasm and 
never sunk to despondence. 

His courage undervalued the danger to which he was 
exposed; and his presence of mind, which never for- 
sook him, enabled him, on all occasions, to take the best 
means of avoiding it. The wilderness, with all its dan- 



DANIEL BOONE. 49 

gers and privations, had a charm for him which is 
scarcely conceivable by one brought up in a city; and 
he determined to remain alone, while his brother re- 
turned to Carolina for an additional supply of ammuni- 
tion, as their original supply was nearly exhausted. 
His situation we should now suppose in the highest de- 
gree gloomy and dispiriting. The dangers which at- 
tended his brother on his return were nearly equal to 
his own; and each had left a wife and children, which 
Boone acknowledged cost him many an anxious thought. 

But the wild and solitary grandeur of the country 
around him, where not a tree had been cut nor a house 
erected, was to him an inexhaustible source of admi- 
ration and delight; and he says himself, that some of 
the most rapturous moments of his life were spent in 
those lonely rambles. The utmost caution was neces- 
sary to avoid the savages, and scarcely less to escape 
the ravenous hunger of the wolves that prowled nightly 
around him in immense numbers. He was compelled 
frequently to shift his lodging, and by undoubted signs 
saw that the Indians had repeatedly visited his hut 
during his absence. He sometimes lay in canebrakes, 
without fire, and heard the yells of the Indians around 
him. Fortunately, however, he never encountered them. 

On the twenty-seventh of July, 1770, his brother re- 
turned with a supply of ammunition; and, with a hardi- 
hood which appears almost incredible, they ranged 
through the country in every direction, and without in- 
jury, until March, 1771. They then returned to North 
Carolina, where Daniel rejoined his family, after an 
absence of three years, during nearly the whole of which 
time he had never tasted bread or salt, nor seen the face 
of a single white man, with the exception of his brother 
and the two friends who had been killed. He here 
determined to sell his farm and remove with his fam- 
ily to the wilderness of Kentucky — an astonishing in- 
stance of hardihood, and we should even say indiffer- 
ence to his family, if it w 7 ere not that his character has 
uniformly been represented as mild and humane, as it 
was bold and fearless. 

Accordingly, on the twenty-fifth of September, 1771, 



50 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

having disposed of all the property which he could not 
take with him, he took leave of his friends and commenced 
his journey to the west. A number of milch cows, 
and horses laden with a few necessary household uten- 
sils, formed the whole of his baggage. His wife and 
children were mounted on horseback and accompanied 
him, every one regarding them as devoted to destruction. 
In Powell's Valley they were joined by five more fam- 
ilies and forty men well armed. Encouraged by this 
accession of strength, they advanced with additional 
confidence, but had soon a severe warning of the fur- 
ther dangers which awaited them. When near Cum- 
berland Mountain, their rear was suddenly attacked 
with great fury by a scouting party of Indians and 
thrown into considerable confusion. 

The party, however, soon rallied, and being accus- 
tomed to Indian warfare, returned the fire with such 
spirit and effect that the Indians were repulsed with 
slaughter. Their own loss, however, had been severe. 
Six men were killed upon the spot and one wounded. 
Among the killed was Boone's eldest son, to the un- 
speakable affliction of his family. The disorder and 
grief occasioned by this rough reception seems to have 
afflicted the emigrants deeply, as they instantly retraced 
their steps to the settlements on Clinch River, forty 
miles from the scene of action. Here they remained 
until June, 1774, probably at the request of the women, 
who must have been greatly alarmed at the prospect 
of plunging more deeply into a country upon the skirts 
of which they had witnessed so keen and bloody a con- 
flict. 

At this time, Boone, at the request of Governor Dun- 
more, of Virginia, conducted a number of surveyors to 
the falls of Ohio, a distance of eight hundred miles. 
Of the incidents of this journey we have no record 
whatever. After his return he was engaged under Dun- 
more, until 1775, in several affairs with the Indians; 
and, at the solicitation of some gentlemen of North 
Carolina, he attended at a treaty with the Cherokees 
for the purpose of purchasing the lands south of Ken- 
tucky River. With his usual brevity, Boone has omitted 



DANIEL BOONE. 51 

to inform us of the particulars of this conference, or 
of the peculiar character of the business upon which he 
was sent. By the aid of Mr. Marshall's valuable his- 
tory, however, we are enabled to supply this silence, 
at least with regard to the latter circumstance. 

It seems that the Cherokees, living within the char- 
tered limits of the State of North Carolina, claimed all 
the land south of the Kentucky as far as Tennessee 
River. That Colonel Richard Henderson and some 
other gentlemen, animated by the glowing description 
of the fertility of the soil which Boone and his brother 
bad given upon their return, determined to purchase 
the whole of this immense tract from the Cherokees, 
and employed Boone as their agent. The Cherokees 
gladly parted with an empty title for a solid, though 
moderate, recompense; and Henderson and his friends 
instantly prepared to take possession, relying upon the 
validity of their deed from the Indians. Unfortunately, 
however, for the success of these speculators, Kentucky 
lay within the limits of Virginia, according to the old 
charter of King James, and that State accordingly 
claimed for herself solely the privilege of purchasing 
the Indian title to lands lying within her own limits. 

She lost no time, therefore, in pronouncing the treaty 
of Henderson null and void, as it regarded his own title; 
although, by rather an exceptional process of reason- 
ing, they determined that it was obligatory upon the 
Indians, so far as regarded the extinction of their title. 
Whether or not the reasoning w T as good, I can not pre- 
tend to say; but, supported as it was by a powerful 
State, it was made good, and Henderson's golden dreams 
completely vanished. He and his associates, however, 
received a liberal grant of land lying on Green River 
as a compensation for the expense and danger which 
they had incurred in prosecuting their settlement. 

It was under the auspices of Henderson that Boone's 
next visit to Kentucky was made. Leaving his family 
on Clinch River, he set out, at the head of a few men, to 
mark out a road for the pack horses or wagons of 
Henderson's party. This laborious and dangerous duty 
he executed with his usual patient fortitude, until he 



52 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

came ■within fifteen miles of the spot where Boones- 
borongh afterward was built. Here, on the twenty- 
second of March, his small party was attacked by 
the Indians and suffered a loss of four men killed and 
wounded. The Indians, although repulsed with loss 
in this affair, renewed the attack with equal fury on 
the next day, and killed and woulded five more of his 
party. On the first of April, the survivors began to build 
a small fort on the Kentucky River, afterward called 
Boonesborough ; and on the fourth they w T ere again 
attacked by the Indians and lost another man. Not- 
withstanding the harassing attacks to which they were 
constantly exposed (for the Indians seemed enraged to 
madness at the prospect of their building houses on their 
hunting-ground), the work w T as prosecuted with inde- 
fatigable diligence, and on the fourteenth was completed. 

Boone instantly returned to Clinch River for his fam- 
ily, determined to bring them with him at every risk. 
This was done as soon as the journey could be per- 
formed, and Mrs. Boone and her daughters were the 
first white women who stood upon the banks of the 
Kentucky River, as Boone himself had been the first 
white man who ever built a cabin upon the borders of 
the State. The first house, however, which ever stood 
in the interior of Kentucky, was erected at Harrods- 
burgh, in the year 1774, by James Harrod, who con- 
ducted to this place a party of hunters from the banks 
of the Monongahela. This place wa*, therefore, a few 
months older than Boonesborough. Both soon became 
distinguished, as the only places in which hunters and 
surveyors could find security from the fury of the In- 
dians. 

Within a few Aveeks after the arrival of Mrs. Boone 
and her daughters, the infant colony was reinforced by 
three more families, at the head of which were Mrs. 
McGary, Mrs. Hogan, and Mrs. Denton. Boonesbo- 
rough, however, w T as the central object of Indian hostili- 
ties, and scarcely had his family become domesticated in 
their new possession, when they were suddenly attacked 
by a party of Indians, and lost one of their garrison. 
This was on the twenty-fourth of December, 1775. 



DANIEL BOONE. 53 

In the following July, however, a much more alarm- 
ing incident occurred. One of his daughters, in com- 
pany with a Miss Calloway, were amusing themselves 
\ in the immediate neighborhood of the tort, when a 
party of Indians suddenly rushed out of a canebrake, 
and, intercepting their return, took them prisoners. 
The screams of the terrified girls quickly alarmed the 
family. The small garrison was dispersed in their 
usual occupations ; but Boone hastily collected a small 
party of eight men, and pursued the enemy. So much 
time, however, had been lost, that the Indians had got 
several miles the start of them. The pursuit was urged 
through the night with great keenness, by woodsmen 
capable of following a trail at all times, and on the 
following day they came up with them. 

The attack was so sudden and furious, that the In- 
dians were driven from their ground before they had 
leisure to tomahawk their prisoners, and the girls w T ere 
recovered without having sustained any other injury 
than excessive fright and fatigue. Nothing but a bar- 
ren outline of this interesting occurrence has been 
given. We know nothing of the conduct of the Indians 
to their captives, or of the situation of the young ladies 
during the short engagement, and can not venture to 
fill up the outline from imagination. The Indians lost 
two men, while Boone's party was uninjured. 

From this time until the fifteenth of April, 1777, the 
garrison was incessantly 'harassed by flying parties of 
Indians. While plowing their corn, they were way- 
laid and shot ; while hunting, they were chased and 
fired upon ; and sometimes a solitary Indian would 
creep up near the fort, in the night, and fire upon the 
fir>t of the garrison who appeared in the morning. 
They were in a constant state of anxiety and alarm, 
and the most ordinary duties could only be performed 
at the risk of their lives. 

On the fifteenth of April, the enemy appeared in large 
numbers, hoping to crush the infant settlement at a 
single blow. Boonesborough, Logan's Fort, and Har- 
rodsburgh, were attacked at one and the same time. 
But, destitute as they were of artillery, scaling ladders, 



54 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

and all the proper means of reducing fortified places, 
they could only distress the men, alarm the women, 
and destroy the corn and cattle. Boonesborough sus- 
tained some loss, as did the other stations, but the en- 
emy being more exposed, suffered so severely as to 
retire with precipitation. 

No rest, however, was given to the unhappy garri- 
son. On the fourth of July following, they were again 
attacked by two hundred warriors, and again repulsed 
the enemy with loss. The Indians retreated; but a few 
days afterward fell upon Logan's Station with great 
fury, having sent detachments to alarm the other sta- 
tions, so as to prevent the appearance of reinforcements 
to Logan's. In this last attempt, they displayed great 
obstinacy, and as the garrison consisted only of fifteen 
men, they were reduced to extremity. Not a moment 
could be allowed for sleep. Burning arrows were shot 
upon the roofs of the houses, and the Indians often 
pressed boldly up to the gates, and attempted to hew 
them down with their tomahawks. Fortunately, at this 
critical time, Colonel Bowman arrived from Virginia 
with one hundred men, well armed, and the savages 
precipitately withdrew, leaving the garrison almost 
exhausted with fatigue, and reduced to twelve men. 

A brief period of repose now followed, in which the 
settlers endeavored to repair the damages done to their 
farms. But a period of heavy trial to Boone .and his 
family was approaching. In January, 1778, accompa- 
nied by thirty men, Boone went to the Blue Licks to 
make salt for the different stations; and on the seventh 
of February following, while out hunting, he fell in with 
one hundred and two Indian warriors, on their march 
to attack Boonesborough. He instantly fled, but being 
upwards of fifty years old, was unable to contend with 
the fleet young men who pursued him, and was a second 
time taken prisoner. As usual, he was treated with 
kindness until his final fate was determined, and was led 
back to the Licks, where his men were still encamped. 
Here his whole party, to the number of twenty-seven, 
surrendered themselves, upon promise of life and good 



DANIEL BOONE. 55 

treatment, both of which conditions were faithfully 
observed. 

Had the Indians prosecuted their enterprise, they 
might perhaps, by showing their prisoners, and threat- 
ening to put them to the torture, have operated so far 
upon the sympathies of the garrisons, as to have ob- 
tained considerable results. But nothing of the kind 
w 7 as attempted. They had already been unexpectedly 
successful; and it is their custom, after good or bad 
fortune, immediately to return home and enjoy their 
triumph, or lament their ill success. Boone and his 
party were conducted to the old town of Chillicothe, 
where they remained until the following March. Ko 
journal was written during this period, by either 
Boone or his party. We are only informed that his 
mild and patient equanimity wrought powerfully upon 
the Indians; that he was adopted into a. family, and 
uniformly treated with the utmost affection. One met 
is given us, which shows his acute observation-, and 
knowledge of mankind. At the various shooting 
matches to which he was invited, he took care not to 
bent them too often. He knew that "no feeling is more 
painful than that of inferiority, and that the most ef- 
fectual way of keeping them in a good humor with Mm, 
was to keep them in a good humor with themselves. He, 
therefore, only shot well enough to make it an honor to 
beat him, and found himself a universal favorite. 

It is much to be regretted, that some of our wits and 
egotists, of both sexes, could not borrow a little of the 
sagacity of Boone, and recollect, that when they en- 
gross the attention of the company, and endeavor most 
to shine, that instead of being agreeable, in nine cases 
out of ten they are only bores. 

On the tenth of March, 1778, Boone was conducted 
to Detroit, when Governor Hamilton himself, offered 
£100 for his ransom ; but so strong was the affection 
of the Indians for their prisoner, that it was positively 
refused. Several English gentlemen, touched with 
sympathy for his misfortunes, made pressing offers of 
money and other articles, but Boone steadily refused 
to receive benefits which he could never return. The 
7 



56 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

offer was honorable to them, and the refusal was dic- 
tated by rather too refined a spirit of independence. 
Boone's anxiety, on account of his wife and children, 
was incessant, and the more intolerable, as he dared 
not excite the suspicion of the Indians by any indica- 
tion of a wish to rejoin them. 

Upon his return from Detroit, he observed that one 
hundred and fifty warriors of various tribes had as- 
sembled, painted and equipped, for an expedition 
against Boonesborough. His anxiety at this sight be- 
came ungovernable, and he determined, at every risk, 
to effect his escape. During the whole of this agitating 
period, however, he permitted no symptoms of anxiety 
to escape him. He hunted and shot with them, as 
usual, until the morning of the sixteenth of June, when/ 
taking an early start, he left Cliillicothe, and directed 
his route to Boonesborough. The distance exceeded 
one hundred and sixty miles, but he performed it in 
four days, during which he ate only one meal. He ap- 
peared before the garrison like one risen from the death 

His wife, supposing him killed, had transported her- 
self, children, and property to her father's house, in 
North Carolina; his men, suspecting no danger, were 
dispersed in their ordinary avocations, and the works 
had been permitted to go to waste. Not a moment 
was to be lost. The garrison worked day and night 
upon the fortifications. New gates, new flanks, and 
double bastions were soon completed. The cattle and 
horses w T ere brought into the fort, ammunition prepared, 
and every thing made ready for the approach of the 
enemy within ten days after his arrival. At this time 
one of his companions in captivity arrived from Cliilli- 
cothe, and announced that his escape had determined 
the Indians to delay the invasion for three weeks. 

During this interval it was ascertained that numer- 
ous spies were traversing the woods and hovering 
around the station, doubtless for the purpose of observ- 
ing and reporting the condition of the garrison. Their 
report could not have been favorable. The alarm had 
spread very generally, and all were upon the alert. 
The attack was delayed so long that Boone began to 



DANIEL BOONE. 57 

suspect that they had heen discouraged by the report 
of the spies ; and he determined to invade them. Se- 
lecting nineteen men from his garrison, lie put himself 
at their head, and marched with equal silence and ce- 
lerity against the town of Paint Creek, on the Scioto. 
He arrived, without discovery, within four miles of the 
town, and there encountered a party of thirty w T arriors 
on their march to unite with the grand army in the 
expedition against Boonesborough. 

Instantly attacking them with great spirit, he com- 
pelled them to give way with some loss, and without 
any injury to himself. He then halted and sent two 
spies in advance to ascertain the condition of the vil- 
lage. In a few hours they returned with the intelli- 
gence that the town was evacuated. He instantly con- 
cluded that the grand army was upon its march against 
Boonesborough, whose situation, as well as his own, 
was exceedingly critical. Retracing his steps, he 
marched, day and night, hoping still to elude the 
enemy and reach Boonesborough before them. He 
soon fell in with their trail, and, making a circuit to 
avoid them, he passed their army on the sixth day of 
their march, and on the seventh reached Boonesbo- 
rough. 

On the eighth the enemy appeared in great force. 
There were nearly five hundred Indian warriors, armed 
and painted in their usual manner, and, what was still 
more formidable, they were conducted by Canadian 
officers, well skilled in the usages of modern warfare. 
As soon as they were arrayed in front of the fort, the 
British colors were displayed, and an officer, with a 
flag, was sent to demand the surrender of the fort, with 
a promise of quarter and good treatment in case of 
compliance, and threatening /'the hatchet" in case of a 
storm. Boone requested two days for consideration, 
which, in defiance of all experience and common sense, 
w T as granted. This interval, as usual, was employed in 
preparation for an obstinate resistance. The cattle 
were brought into the fort, the horses secured, and all 
'things made ready against the commencement of hos- 
tilities. 



58 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

Boone then assembled the garrison, and represented 
to them the condition in which they stood. They had 
not now to deal with Indians alone, but with British 
officers, skilled in the art of attacking fortified places, 
sufficiently numerous to direct, but too few to restrain 
their savage allies. If they surrendered, their lives 
might, and probably would be saved ; but they would 
suffer much inconvenience, and must lose all their prop- 
erty. If they resisted and were overcome, the life of 
every man, woman, and child would be sacrificed. The 
hour was now come in which they were to determine 
what was to be done. If they were inclined to surren- 
der, he would announce it to the officer ; if they were 
resolved to maintain the fort, he would share their fate, 
whether in life or death. He had scarcely finished, 
when every man arose and, in a firm tone, announced 
his determination to defend the fort to the last. 

Boone then appeared at the gate of the fortress and 
communicated to Captain Duquesne the resolution of 
his men. Disappointment and chagrin were strongly 
painted upon the face of the Canadian at this answer ; 
but, endeavoring to disguise his feelings, he declared 
that Governor Hamilton had ordered him not to injure 
the men if it could be avoided, and that if nine of the 
principal inhabitants of the fort would come out into 
the plain and treat with them, they would instantly 
depart without further hostility. The insidious nature 
of this proposal was evident, for they could converse 
very well from where they then stood, and going out 
would only place the officers of the fort at the mercy 
of the savages, not to mention the absurdity of sup- 
posing that this army of warriors would "treat," but 
upon such terms as pleased them, and no terms were 
likely to do so short of a total abandonment of the 
country. 

Notwithstanding these obvious objections, the word 
"treat" sounded so pleasantly in the ears of the be- 
sieged, that they agreed at once to the proposal; and 
Boone himself, attended by eight of his men, went out 
and mingled with the savages, who crowded around 
them in great numbers, and with countenances of deep 



DANIEL BOONE. 59 

anxiety. The treaty then commenced, and was soon 
concluded. What the terms were, we are not informed, 
nor is it a matter of the least importance, as the 
whole was a stupid and shallow artifice. This was soon 
made manifest. Duquesne, after many, very many 
pretty periods about the " bienfaisance et humdnite" 
which should accompany the warfare of civilized beings, 
at length informed Boone, that it was a custom with 
the Indians, upon the conclusion of* a treaty with the 
whites, for two warriors to take hold of the hand of 
each white man. 

Boone thought this rather a singular custom, but 
there was no time to dispute about etiquette, particu- 
larly, as he could not be more in their power than he 
already was; so he signified his willingness to conform 
to the Indian mode of cementing friendship. Instantly, 
two warriors approached each white man, with the 
word "brother' upon their lips, but a very different 
expression in their eyes, and grappling him with 
violence, attempted to bear him off. They probably 
(unless totally infatuated) expected such a consumma- 
tion, and all at the same moment sprung from their 
enemies and ran to the fort under a heavy fire, which 
fortunately only wounded one man. 

We look here in vain for the prudence and sagacity 
which usually distinguished Boone. Indeed, there 
seems to have been a contest between him and 
Duquesne, as to which should display the greater 
quantum of shallowness. The plot itself was unworthy 
of a child, and the execution beneath contempt. For 
after all this treachery, to permit his prisoner to 
escape from the very midst of his warriors, who cer- 
tainly might have thrown themselves between Boone 
and the fort, argues a poverty or timidity, on the 
part of Duquesne, truly despicable. 

The attack instantly commenced by a heavy fire 
against the picketing, and was returned wiih fatal 
accuracy by the garrison. The Indians quickly shel- 
tered themselves, and the action became more cautious 
and deliberate. Finding but little effect from the fire 
of his men, Duquesne next resorted to a more formid- 



60 WESTERN AD VENTURE. 

able mode of attack. The fort stood on the south 
bank of the river, within sixty yards of the water. 
Commencing under the bank, where their operations 
were concealed from the garrison, they attempted to 
push a mine into the fort. Their object, however, was 
fortunately discovered by the quantity of fresh earth 
which they were compelled to throw into the river, 
and by which the water became muddy for some dis- 
tance below. Boone, who had regained his usual 
sagacity, instantly cut a trench within the fort in such 
a manner as to intersect the line of their approach, 
and thus frustrated their design. 

The enemy exhausted all their ordinary artifices of 
Indian warfare, but were steadily repulsed in every 
effort. Finding their numbers daily thinned by the 
deliberate but fatal fire of the garrison, and seeing no 
prospect of final success, they broke up on the ninth 
day of the siege, and returned home. The loss of the 
garrison, was two men killed and four wounded. On 
the part of the savages, thirty-seven were killed and 
many wounded, who, as umal, were all carried off. 
This was the last siege sustained by Boonesborough. 
The country had increased so rapidly in numbers, and 
so many other stations lay between Boonesborough and 
the Ohio, that the savages could not reach it without 
leaving enemies in the rear. 

In the autiflnn of this year, Boone returned to 
North Carolina for his wife and family, who, as 
already observed, had supposed him dead, and returned 
to her father. There is a hint in Mr. Marshall's his- 
tory, that the family affairs, which detained him in 
North Carolina, were of an unpleasant character, but 
no explanation is given. 

In the summer of 1780, he returned to Kentucky 
with his family, and settled at Boonesborough. Here 
he continued busily engaged upon his farm until the 
sixth of October, when, accompanied by his brother, 
he went to the Lower Blue Licks, for the purpose of 
providing himself with salt. This spot seemed fatal 
to Boone. Here he had once been taken prisoner by 
the Indians; and here he was destined, within two 



DANIEL BOONE. 61 

years, to lose his youngest son, and to witness the 
slaughter of many of his dearest friends. His present 
visit was not free from calamity. Upon their return, 
they were encountered by a party of Indians, and his 
brother, who had accompanied him faithfully through 
many years of toil and danger, was killed and scalped 
before his eyes. 

Unable either to prevent or avenge his death, Boone 
was compelled to fly, and by his superior knowledge 
of the country contrived to elude his pursuers. They 
followed his trail, however, by the scent of a dog, that 
pressed him closely, and prevented his concealing him- 
self. This was one of the most critical moments of 
his life, but his usual coolness and fortitude enabled 
him to meet it. He halted until the dog, baying 
loudly upon his trail, came within gunshot, when he 
deliberately turned and shot him dead. The thickness 
of the woods, and the approach of darkness, then 
enabled him to effect his escape. 

During the following year, Boonesborough enjoyed 
uninterrupted tranquillity. The country had become 
comparatively thickly settled, and was studded with 
fortresses in every direction. Fresh emigrants with 
their families were constantly arriving ; and many 
young unmarried women (who had heretofore been 
extremely scarce) had ventured to risk themselves in 
Kentucky. They could not have selected a spot where 
their merit was more properly appreciated, and were 
disposed of very rapidly to the young hunters, most 
of whom had hitherto, from necessity, remained bache- 
lors. Thriving settlements had been pushed beyond 
the Kentucky River, and a number of houses had been 
built where Lexington now stands. 

The year 1781 passed away in perfect tranquillity, 
and, judging from appearances, nothing was more 
distant, than the terrible struggle which awaited them. 
But during the whole of this year, the Indians were 
meditating a desperate effort to crush the settlements 
at a single blow. They had become seriously alarmed 
at the tide of emigration which rolled over the country, 
and threatened to convert their favorite hunting ground 



62 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

into one vast cluster of villages. The game had 
already been much dispersed, the settlers, originally 
weak, and scattered over the south side of the Kentucky 
River, had now become numerous, and were rapidly 
extending to the Ohio. One vigorous and united effort 
might still crush their enemies, and regain for them- 
selves the undisputed possession of the western forests. 

A few renegade white men were mingled with them, 
and inflamed' their wild passions, by dwelling upon the 
injuries which they had ever sustained at the hands of 
the whites, and of the necessity for instant and vigor- 
ous exertion, or of an eternal surrender of every hope 
either of redress or vengeance. Among these, the 
most remarkable was Simon Girty. Runners were 
dispatched to most of the north-western tribes, and all 
were exhorted to lay aside private jealousy, and unite 
in a common cause against these white intruders. In 
the meantime, the settlers were busily employed in 
opening farms, marrying and giving in marriage, 
totally ignorant of the storm which was gathering 
upon the Lakes. 

In the spring of 1782, after a long interval of re- 
pose, they were harassed by small parties, who 'preceded 
the main body, as the pattering and irregular drops of 
rain are the precursors of the approaching storm. In 
the month of May, a party of twenty-five Wyandotts 
secretly approached Estill's Station, and committed 
shocking outrages in its vicinity. Entering a cabin 
which stood apart from the rest, they seized a woman 
and her two daughters, who, having been violated with 
circumstances of savage barbarity, were tomahawked 
and scalped. Their bodies, yet warm and bleeding, 
were found upon the floor of the cabin. The neigh- 
borhood was instantly alarmed. Captain Estill speed- 
ily collected a body of twenty-five men, and pursued 
their trail with great rapidity. He came up with them 
on Hinkston Fork of Licking, immediately after thev 
had crossed it, and a most severe and desperate con- 
flict ensued. 

The Indians, at first, appeared daunted and began to 
fly, but their chief, who was badly wounded by the first 



DANIEL BOONE, 63 

fire, was heard in a loud voice, ordering them to stand 
and return the tire, which was instantly obeyed. The 
creek ran between the two parties, and prevented a 
charge on either side, without the certainty of great 
loss. The parties, therefore, consisting of -precisely tire 
same number, formed an irregular line, within fifty 
yards of each other, and sheltering themselves behind 
trees or logs they fired with deliberation, as an object 
presented itself. The only maneuver which the nature 
of the ground permitted, was to extend their lines in 
such a manner as to uncover the flank of the enemy, 
and even this was extremely dangerous, as every motion 
exposed them to a close and deadly fire. 

The action, therefore, was chiefly stationary, neither 
party advancing or retreating, and every individual 
acting for himself. It had already lasted more than 
an hour, without advantage on either side, or any pros- 
pect of its termination. Captain Estill had lost one- 
third of his men, and had inflicted about an equal loss 
upon his enemies, who still boldly maintained their 
ground, and returned his fire with equal spirit. To 
have persevered in the Indian mode of fighting, would 
have exposed his party to certain death, one by one, 
unless all the Indians should be killed first, who, how- 
ever, had at least an equal chance with himself. Even 
victory, bought at such a price, would have afforded 
but a melancholy triumph ; yet it was impossible to 
retreat or advance without exposing his men to the 
greatest danger. 

After coolly revolving these reflections in his mind, 
and observing that the enemy exhibited no symptoms 
of discouragement, Captain Estill determined to detach 
a party of six men, under Lieutenant Miller, with 
orders to cross the creek above, and take the Indians 
in flank, while he maintained his ground, ready to co- 
operate, as circumstances might require. But he had 
to deal with an enemy equally bold and sagacious. The 
Indian chief was quickly aware of the division of the 
force opposed to him, from the slackening of the fire in 
front; and readily conjecturing his object, he determined 
to frustrate it by crossing the creek with his whole 



64 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

force, and overwhelming Estill, now weakened by the 
absence of Miller. 

The maneuver was bold and masterly, and was exe- 
cuted with determined courage. Throwing themselves 
into the water, they fell upon Estill with the toma- 
hawk, and drove him before them with slaughter. 
Miller's party retreated with precipitation, and even 
lie under the reproach of deserting their friends, and 
absconding, instead of occupying the designated ground. 
Others contradict this statement, and affirm that Miller 
punctually executed his orders, crossed the creek, and 
falling in with the enemy, was compelled to retire with 
loss. We think it probable, that the Indians rushed 
upon Estill, as above mentioned, and having defeated 
him, recrossed the creek and attacked Miller, thus cut- 
ting up their enemy in detail. 

Estill's party finding themselves furiously charged, 
and receiving no assistance from Miller, who was prob- 
ably at that time on the other side of the creek, in the 
execution of his orders, would naturally consider them- 
selves deserted; and when a clamor of that kind is once 
raised .against a man (particularly in a defeat), the 
voice of rea-on can no longer be heard. Some scape- 
goat is always necessary. The broken remains of the 
detachment returned to the station, and filled the coun- 
try with consternation and alarm, greatly dispropor- 
tioned to the extent of the loss. The brave Estill, 
with eight of his men, had fallen, and four more were 
wounded, more than half of their original number. 

This, notwithstanding the smallness of the numbers, 
is a very remarkable action, and, perhaps, more honor- 
able to the Indians than any other one on record. The 
numbers, the arms, the courage, and the position of 
the parties, were equal. Both were composed of good 
marksmen, and skillful woodsmen. There was no sur- 
prise, no panic, nor any particular accident, according 
to the most probable account, which decided the action. 
A delicate maneuver on the part of Estill gave an ad- 
vantage, which was promptly seized by the Indian chief, 
and a bold and masterly movement decided the fate of 
the day. The great battles of Austerlitz and Wagram 



DANIEL BOONE. 65 

exhibit the same error on the part of one commander, 
and the same decisive and successful step on the part 
of the other. 

The Arch-Duke Charles extended his line to take the 
French in flank, and thereby weakened his center, 
which was instantly broken by a rapid charge of the 
whole French army. No movement seems more deli- 
cate and dangerous than that of Estill, and the first 
great check which Bonaparte received (that of Eylau) 
was chiefly occasioned by weakening his front in order 
to assail the enemy in rear. It requires, however, great 
boldness and promptitude in the opposite leader, to take 
advantage of it. A cautious and wary leader will be 
apt to let the golden opportunity pass away, until the 
detachment has reached his flank, and it is then too 
late. The English military critics censure our Wash- 
ington for hesitation of this kind at Brandywine. They 
say, that when the detachment of Cornwallis was absent 
on its march to take the Americans in flank, Washing- 
ton should have crossed with his whole force, and have 
fallen upon Kniphausen. Lee says, that such a ma- 
neuver was contemplated, but was prevented by false 
intelligence. 

The news of Estill's disaster was quickly succeeded 
by another, scarcely less startling to the alarmed set- 
tlers. Captain Holder, at the head of seventeen men, 
pursued a party of Indians who had taken two boys 
from the neighborhood of Hoy's Station. He overtook 
them after a rapid pursuit, and in the severe action 
which ensued, was repulsed with the loss of more than 
half his party. t The tide of success seemed completely 
turned in favor of the Indians. They traversed the 
woods in every direction, sometimes singly, sometimes 
in small parties, and kept the settlers in constant alarm. 

At length, early in August, the grand effort was 
made. The allied Indian army, composed of detach- 
ments from nearly all the North-western * tribes, and 
amounting to nearly six hundred men, commenced 
their march from Chillicothe, under the command of 
their respective chiefs, aided and influenced by Girty, 
McKee, and other renegade white men. With a se- 



66 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

crecy and celerity peculiar to themselves, they advanced 
through the woods without giving the slightest indica- 
tions of their approach; and on the night of the foui> 
teeuth of August, they appeared before Bryant's Station, 
as suddenly as if they hacl risen from the earth, and sur^ 
rounding it on all sides, calmly awaited the approach of 
daylight, holding themselves in readiness to rush in upon 
the inhabitants the moment that the gates were opened 
in the morning. The supreme influence of fortune in 
war was never more strikingly displayed. 

The garrison had determined to march at daylight on 
the following morning, to the assistance of Hoy's Sta- 
tion, from which a messenger had arrived the evening 
before, with the intelligence of Holder's defeat. Had 
the Indians arrived only a few hours later, they would 
have found the fort occupied only by old men, women 
and children, who could not have resisted their attack 
for a moment. As it was, they found the garrison as- 
sembled and under arms, most of them busily engaged 
throughout the whole night in preparing for an early 
march on the following morning. The Indians could 
distinctly hear the bustle of preparation, and see lights 
glancing from block-houses and cabins during the night, 
which must have led them to suspect that their ap- 
proach had been discovered. All continued tranquil 
during the night, and Girty silently concerted the plan 
of attack. 

The fort, consisting of about forty cabins placed in 
parallel lines, stands upon a gentle rise on the southern 
bank of the Elkhorn, a few paces to the right of the 
road from Maysville to Lexington. The garrison was 
supplied with water from a spring at some distance 
from the fort on its north-western side ; a great error, 
common to most of the stations, which, in a close and 
long-continued siege, must have suffered dreadfully for 
want of water. 

The great body of Indians placed themselves in am- 
bush within half rifle shot of the spring, while one hun- 
dred select men w r ere placed near the spot where the 
road now runs after passing the creek, with orders to 
open a brisk fire and show themselves to the garrison 



DANIEL BOONE. 67 

on that side, for the purpose of drawing them out, while 
the main body held themselves in readiness to rush upon 
the opposite gate of the fort, hew it down with their 
tomahawks, and force their way into the midst of the 
cabins. At dawn of day, the garrison paraded under 
arms, and were preparing to open their gates and march 
off as already mentioned, when they were alarmed by a 
furious discharge of rifles, accompanied with yells and 
screams, which struck terror to the hearts of the women 
and children, and startled even the men. 

All ran hastily to the picketing, and beheld a small 
party of Indians, exposed to open view, firing, yelling, 
and making the most furious gestures. The appearance 
was so singular, and so different from their usual man- 
ner of fighting, that some of the more wary and expe- 
rienced of the garrison instantly pronounced it a decoy 
party, and restrained the young men from sallying out 
and ai tacking them, as some of them were strongly dis- 
posed to do. The opposite side of the fort was instantly 
manned, and several breaches in the picketing rapidly 
repaired. Their greatest distress arose from the pros- 
pect of suffering for water. The more experienced of 
the garrison felt satisfied that a powerful party was in 
ambuscade near the spring, but at the same time they 
supposed that the Indians would not unmask themselves 
until the firing upon the opposite side of the fort was 
returned with, such warmth, as to induce the belief that 
the feint had succeeded. 

Acting upon this impression, and yielding to the ur- 
gent necessity of the case, they summoned all the 
women, without exception, and explaining to them the 
circumstances in which they were placed, and the im- 
probability that any injury would be offered them, until 
the firing had been returned from the opposite side of 
the fort, they urged them to go in a body to the spring, 
and each to bring up a bucket full of water. Some of 
the ladies, as was natural, had no relish for the under- 
taking, and asked why the men could not bring water 
as well as themselves ? observing that they were not 
bullet-proof, and that the Indians made no distinction 
between male and female scalps ! 



68 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

To this it was answered, that women were in the habit 
of bringing water every morning to the fort, and that 
if the Indians saw them engaged as usual, it would in- 
duce them to believe that their ambuscade was undis- 
covered, and that they would not unmask themselves 
for the sake of firing at a few women, when they hoped, 
by remaining concealed a lew moments longer, to ob- 
tain complete possession of the fort. That if men 
should go down to the spring, the Indians would im- 
mediately suspect that something was wrong, would de- 
spair of succeeding by ambuscade, and would instantly 
rush upon them, follow them into the fort, or shoot 
them down at the spring. The decision was soon over. 

A few of the boldest declared their readiness to brave 
the danger, and the younger and more timid rallying 
in the rear of these veterans, they all marched down in 
a body to the spring, within point-blank shot of more 
than five hundred Indian warriors! Some of the girls 
could not help betraying symptoms of terror, but the 
married women, in general, moved with a steadiness 
and comp >sure which completely deceived the Indians. 
Not a shot was fired. The party were permitted to fill 
their buckets, one after another, without interruption, 
and although their steps became quicker and quicker, 
on their return, and, when near the gate of the fort, 
degenerated into a rather un military celerity, attended 
with some little crowding in passing the gate, yet not 
more than one-fifth of the water was spilled, and the 
eyes of the youngest had not dilated to more than 
double their ordinary size. 

Being now amply supplied with water, they sent out 
thirteen young men to attack the decoy party, with or- 
ders to fire with great rapidity and make as much noise 
as possible, but not to pursue the enemy too far, while 
the rest of the garrison took post on the opposite side 
of the fort, cocked their guns, and stood in readiness to 
receive the ambuscade as soon as it was unmasked. 
The firing of the light parties on the Lexington road 
was soon heard, and quickly became sharp and serious, 
gradually becoming more distant from the fort. In- 
stantly Girty sprung up at the head of his five hundred 



DANIEL BOONE. 69 

warriors, and rushed rapidly upon the western gate, 
ready to force his way over the undefended palisades. 
Into this immense mass of dusky bodies the garrison 
poured several rapid volleys of rifle balls, with destruc- 
tive effect. Their consternation may be imagined. 
With wild cries they dispersed on the right and left,' 
and in two minutes not an Indian was to be seen. At 
the same time, the party who had sallied out on the 
Lexington road came running into the fort at the oppo- 
site gate, in high spirits, and laughing heartily at the 
success of their maneuver. 

A regular attack, in the usual manner, then com- 
menced, without much effect on either side, until two 
o'clock in the afternoon, when a new scene presented it- 
self. Upon the first appearance of the Indians in the 
morning, two of the garrison, Tomlinson and Bell, had 
been mounted upon fleet horses, and sent at full spetd 
to Lexington, announcing the arrival of the Indians and 
demanding reinforcements. Upon their arrival, a little 
after sunrise, they found the town occupied only by wo- 
men and children and a few old men, the rest having 
marched, at the intelligence of Holder's defeat, to the 
general rendezvous at Hoy's Station. The two couriers 
instantly followed at a gallop, and overtaking them on 
the road, informed them of the danger to which Lex- 
ington was exposed during their absence. 

The whole party, amounting to sixteen horsemen and 
more than double that number on foot, with some addi- 
tional volunteers from Boone's Station, instantly coun- 
termarched, and repaired with all possible expedition to 
Bryant's Station. They were entirely ignorant of the 
overwhelming numbers opposed to them, or they would 
have proceeded with more caution. Tomlinson had only 
informed them that the station was surrounded, being 
himself ignorant of the numbers of the enemy. By 
great exertions, horse and foot appeared before Bryant's 
at two in the afternoon, and pressed forward with pre- 
cipitate gallantry to throw themselves into the fort. The 
Indians, however, had been aware of the departure of 
the two couriers, who had, in fact, broken through their 
line in order to give the alarm, and, expecting the ar- 



70 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

rival of reinforcements, had taken measures to meet 
them. 

To the left of the long and narrow lane, where the 
Maysville and Lexington road now runs, there were 
more than one hundred acres of green standing corn. 
•The usual road from Lexington to Bryant's ran parallel 
to the fence of this field, and only a few feet distant from 
it. On the opposite side of the road was a thick wood. 
Here more than three hundred Indians lay in ambush, 
within pistol shot of the road, awaiting the approach of 
the party. The horsemen came in view at a time when 
the firing had ceased and every thing was quiet. See- 
ing no enemy, and hearing no noise, they entered the 
lane at a gallop, and were instantly saluted with a 
shower of rifle balls from each side, at the distance of 
ten paces. 

At the first shot the whole party set spurs to their 
horses, and rode at full speed through a rolling fire from 
either side, which continued for several hundred yards, 
but, owing partly to the furious rate at which they rode, 
partly to the clouds of dust raised by the horses' feet, 
they all entered the fort unhurt. The men on foot were 
less fortunate. They were advancing through the corn- 
field, and might have reached the fort in safety but for 
their eagerness to succor their friends. Without re- 
flecting that, from the weight and extent of the fire, the 
enemy must have been ten times their number, they ran 
up, with inconsiderate courage, to the spot where the 
firing was heard, and there found themselves cut off 
from the fort and within pistol shot of more than three 
hundred savages. 

Fortunately, the Indian guns had just been dis- 
charged, and they had not yet had leisure to reload. 
At the sight of this brave body of footmen, however, 
they raised a hideous yell, and rushed upon them, toma- 
hawk in hand. Nothing but the high corn and their 
loaded rifles could have saved them from destruction. 
The Indians were cautious in rushing upon a loaded rifle 
with only a, tomahawk, and, when they halted to load 
their pieces, the Kentuckians ran with great rapidity, 
turning and dodging through the corn in every direc- 



DANIEL BOONE. 71 

tion. Some entered the wood and escaped through the 
thickets of cane, some were shot, down in the corn-field, 
others maintained a running fight, halting occasionally 
behind trees and keeping the enemy at bay with their 
rifles; for, of all men, the Indians are generally the 
most cautious in exposing themselves to danger. A 
stout, active young fellow, was so hard pressed by Girty 
and several savage?, that he was compelled to discharge 
his rifle (however unwilling, having no time to reload 
it), and Girty fell. 

It happened, however, that a piece of thick sole- 
leather was in his shot-pouch at the time, which received 
the ball and preserved his life, although the force of the 
blow felled him to the ground. The savages halted 
upon his fall, and the young man escaped. All hough 
the skirmish and the race lasted for more than an hour, 
during which the corn-field presented a scene of turmoil 
and bustle which can scarcely be conceived, yet very 
few lives were lost. Only six of the white men were 
killed and wounded, and probably still fewer of the 
enemy, as the whites never fired until absolutely neces- 
sary, but reserved their loads as a check upon the 
enemy. Had the Indians pursued them to Lexington, 
they might have possessed themselves of it without re- 
sistance, as there was no force there to oppose them ; but, 
after following the fugitives for a few hundred yards, 
they returned to the hopeless siege of the fort. 

It w 7 as now near sunset, and the fire on both sides had 
slackened. The Indians had become discouraged. 
Their loss in the morning had been heavy, and the 
country was evidently arming and would soon be upon 
them. They had made no impression upon the fort, and 
without artillery could hope to make none. The chiefs 
spoke of raising the siege and decamping, but Girty de- 
termined, since his arms had been unavailing, to try the 
efficacy of negotiation. Near one of the bastions there 
w T as a large stump, to which he crept on his hands and 
knees, and from which he hailed the garrison. 

He highly commended their courage, but assured 
them that further resistance would be madness, as he 
had six hundred warriors with him, and was in hourly 
8 



72 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

expectation of reinforcements with artillery, which would 
instantly blow their cabins into the air ; that if the fort 
was taken by storm, as it certainly would be when their 
cannon arrived, it would be impossible for him to save 
their lives, but, if they surrendered at once, he gave 
them his honor that not a hair of their heads should be 
injured. He told them his name, inquired whether 
they knew him, and assured them that they might 
safely trust to his honor. 

The garrison listened in silence to his speech, and 
many of them looked very blank at the mention of the 
artillery, as the Indians had, on one occasion, brought 
cannon with them and destroyed two stations. But a 
young man by the name of Reynolds, highly distin- 
guished for courage, energy, and a frolicsome gayety of 
temper, perceiving the eifect of Girty's speech, took upon 
himself to reply to it. 

To Girty's inquiry, " Whether the garrison knew 
him? " Reynolds replied, " That he was very well known ; 
that he himself had a worthless dog, to which he had 
given the name of ' Simon Girty,' in consequence of 
his striking resemblance to the man of that name; 
that if he had either artillery or reinforcements, he 

might bring them up and be d d; that if either 

himself, or any of the naked rascals with him, found 
their way into the fort, they would disdain to use their 
guns against them, but would drive them out again 
with switches, of which they had collected a great 
number for that purpose alone ; and finally, he de- 
clared, that they also expected reinforcements ; that 
the whole country was marching to their assistance; 
and that if Girty and his gang of murderers remained 
twenty-four hours longer before the fort, their scalps 
would be found drying in the sun upon the roofs of 
their cabins." 

Girty took great offense at the tone and language of 
the young Kentuckian, and retired with an expression 
of sorrow for the inevitable destruction which awaited 
them on the following morning. He quickly rejoined 
the chiefs; and instant preparations were made for 
raising the siege. The night passed away in uninter- 



DANIEL BOONE. 73 

rupted tranquillity, and at daylight in the morning 
the Indian camp was found deserted. Fires were still 
burning brightly, and several pieces of meat were left 
upon their roasting sticks, from which it was inferred 
that they had retreated a short time before daylight. 

Early in the day, reinforcements began to drop in, 
and by noon, one hundred and sixty-seven men were 
assembled at Bryant's Station. Colonel Daniel Boone, 
accompanied by his youngest son, headed a strong 
party from Boonesborough ; Trigg brought up the 
force from the neighborhood of Harrodsburgh, and 
Todd commanded the militia around Lexington. 
Nearly a third of the whole number assembled, was 
composed of commissioned officers, who hurried from a 
distance to the scene of hostilities, and for the time 
took their station in the ranks. Of those under the 
rank of colonel, the most conspicuous were Majors 
Harland, McBride, McGary, and Levi Todd, and 
Captains Bulger and Gordon. Of the six last-named 
officers, all fell in the subsequent battle, except Todd 
and McGary. Todd and Trigg, as senior colonels, 
took the command, although their authority seems to 
have been in a great measure nominal. That, however, 
was of less consequence, as a sense of common danger 
is often more binding than the strictest discipline. 

A tumultuous consultation, in which every one seems 
to have had a voice, terminated in a unanimous res- 
olution to pursue the enemy without delay. It was 
well known that General Logan had collected a strong 
force in Lincoln, and would join them at farthest in 
twenty -four hours. It was distinctly understood that 
the enemy was at least double, and, according to Girty's 
account, more than treble their own numbers. It was 
seen that their trail was broad and obvious, and that 
even some indications of a tardiness and willingness to 
be pursued, had been observed by their scouts, who 
had been sent out to reconnoiter, and from which it 
might reasonably be inferred that they would halt on 
the way, at least march so leisurely as to permit them 
to wait for the aid of Logan. Yet so keen was the 
ardor of officer and soldier, that all these obvious rea- 



74 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

sons were overlooked, and in the afternoon of the 
eighteenth of August, the line of march was taken up, 
and the pursuit urged with that precipitate courage 
which has so often been fatal to Kentuckians. Most 
of the officers and many of the privates were mounted. 

The Indians had followed the buffalo trace, and as 
if to render their trail still more evident, they had 
chopped many of the trees on each side of the road 
with their hatchets. These strong indications of tardi- 
ness made some impression upon the cool and calcu- 
lating mind of Boone ; but it was too late to advise 
retreat. They encamped that night in the woods, and 
on the following day reached the fatal boundary of 
their pursuit. At the Lower Blue Licks, for the first 
time since the pursuit commenced, they came within 
view of an enemy. As the miscellaneous crowd of 
horse and foot reached the southern bank of the Lick- 
ing, they saw a number of Indians ascending the 
rocky ridge on the other side. 

They halted upon the appearance of the Kentuck- 
ians, gazed at them for a fiw moments in silence, and 
then calmly and leisurely disappeared over the top of 
the hill. A halt immediately ensued. A dozen or 
twenty officers met in front of the ranks, and entered 
into consultation. The wild and lonely aspect of the 
country around them, their distance from any point of 
support, with the certainty of their being in the pres- 
ence of a superior enemy, seems to have inspired a 
portion of seriousness, bordering upon awe. All eyes 
were now turned upon Boone, and Colonel Todd asked 
his opinion as to what should be done. The veteran 
woodsman, with his usual unmoved gravity, replied: 

" That their situation was critical and delicate ; that 
the force opposed to them was undoubtedly numerous 
and ready for battle, as might readily be seen from the 
leisurely retreat of the few Indians who had appeared 
upon the crest of the hill ; that he was well acquainted 
with the ground in the neighborhood of the Lick, and 
was apprehensive that an ambuscade was formed at 
the distance of a mile in advance, where two ravines, 
one upon each side of the. ridge, ran in such a manner 



DANIEL BOONE. 75 

that a concealed enemy might assail them at once both 
in front and flank, before they were apprised of the 
danger. 

" It would be proper, therefore, to do one of two 
things. Either to await the arrival of Logan, who 
was now undoubtedly on his march to join them, or if 
it was determined to attack without delay, that one- 
half of their number should march up the river, which 
there bends in an elliptical form, cross at the rapids and 
fall upon the rear of the enemy, Avhile the other divis- 
ion attacked in front. At any rate, he strongly urged 
the necessity of reconnoitering the ground carefully be- 
fore the main body crossed the river." 

Such was the counsel of Boone. And, although no 
measure could have been much more disastrous than 
that which was adopted, yet it may be doubted if any 
thing short of an immediate retreat upon Logan, could 
have saved this gallant body of men from the fate which 
they encountered. Jf they divided their force, the en- 
emy, as in Estill's case, might have overwhelmed them 
in detail; if they remained where they were, without 
advancing, the enemy would certainly have attacked 
them, probably in the night, and with a certainty of 
success. They had committed a great error at first, in 
not waiting for Logan, and nothing short of a retreat, 
which would have been considered disgraceful, could 
now repair it. 

Boone was heard in silence and with deep attention. 
Some wished to adopt the first plan ; others preferred 
the second ; and the discussion threatened to be drawn 
out to some length, when the boiling ardor of McGary, 
who could never endure the presence of an enemy with- 
out instant battle, stimulated him to an act, which had 
nearly proved destructive to his country. He suddenly 
interrupted the consultation with a loud whoop, resem- 
bling the war-cry of the Indians, spurred his horse into 
the stream, waved his hat over his head, and shouted 
aloud: "Let all who are not cowards follow me!" 
The words and the action together, produced an elec- 
trical effect. The mounted men dashed tumultuously 
into the river, each striving to be foremost. The foot- 



76 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

• 

men were mingled with them in one rolling and irreg- 
ular mass. 

No order was given and none observed. They strug- 
gled through a deep ford as well as they could, McGary 
still leading the van, closely followed by Majors Har- 
land and McBride. With the same rapidity they as- 
cended the ridge, which, by the trampling of buffalo 
foragers, had been stripped bare of all vegetation, with, 
the exception of a few dwarfish cedars, and which w T as 
rendered still more desolate in appearance by the mul- 
titude of rocks, blackened by the sun, which were 
spread over its surface. Upon reaching the top of 
the ridge, they followed the buffalo trace with the same 
precipitate ardor ; Todd and Trigg in the rear ; Mc- 
Gary, Harland, McBride, and Boone in front. JNo 
scouts were sent in advance, none explored either flank; 
officers and soldiers seemed alike demented by the con- 
tagious example of a single man, and all struggled for- 
ward, horse and foot, as if to outstrip each other in the 
advance. 

Suddenly, the van halted. They had reached the 
spot mentioned by Boone, where the two ravines head, 
on each side of the ridge. Here a body of Indians pre- 
sented themselves, and attacked the van. . McG-ary's 
party instantly returned the fire, but under great dis- 
advantage. They were upon a bare and open ridge; 
the Indians in a bushy ravine. The center and rear, 
ignorant of the ground, hurried up to the assistance of 
the van, but were soon stopped by a terrible fire from 
the ravine which flanked them. They found themselves 
inclosed as if in the w T ings of a net, destitute of proper 
shelter, while the enemy were in a great measure cov- 
ered from their fire. Still, however, they maintained 
their ground. The action became warm and bloody. 
The parties gradually closed, the Indians emerged from 
the ravine, and the fire became mutually destructive. 
The officers suffered dreadfully. Todd and Trigg, in 
the rear ; Harland, McBride, and young Boone, in 
front, w T ere already killed. 

The Indians gradually extended their line, to turn 
the right of. the Kentuckians, and cut off their retreat. 



DANIEL BOONE. 77 

This was quickly perceived by the weight of the fire 
from that quarter, and the rear instantly fell back in 
disorder, and attempted to rush through their only open- 
ing to the river. The motion quickly communicated 
itself to the van, and a hurried retreat became general. 
The Indians instantly sprung forward in pursuit, and 
failing upon them with their tomahawks, made a cruel 
slaughter. From the battle-ground to the river, the 
spectacle was terrible. The horsemen generally escaped, 
but the foot, particularly the van, which had advanced 
farthest within the wings of the net, were almost totally 
destroyed. Colonel Boone, after witnessing the death 
of his son and many of his dearest friends, found him- 
self almost entirely surrounded at the very commence- 
ment of the retreat. 

Several hundred Indians were between him and the 
ford, to which the great mass of the fugitives were bend- 
ing their flight, and to which the attention of the sav- 
ages was principally directed. Being intimately acquaint- 
ed with the ground, he, together with a few friends, 
dashed into the ravine which the Indians had occupied, 
but which most of them had now left to join in the pur- 
suit. After sustaining one or two heavy fires, and baf- 
fling one or two small parties, who pursued him for a 
short distance, he crossed the river below the ford, by 
swimming, and entering the wood at a point wiiere 
there was no pursuit, returned by a circuitous route to 
Bryant's Station. In the meantime, the great mass of the 
victors and vanquished crowded the bank of the ford. 

The slaughter was great in the river. The ford was 
crowded with horsemen and foot and Indians, all min- 
gled together. Some were compelled to seek a passage 
above by swimming;' some, who could not swim, were 
overtaken and killed at the edge of the water. A man 
by the name. of Netherland, who had formerly been 
strongly suspected of cowardice, here displa} r ed a cool- 
ness and presence of mind, equally noble and unex- 
pected. Being finely mounted, he had outstripped the 
great mass of fugitives, and crossed the river in safety. 
A dozen or twenty horsemen accompanied him, and 
having placed the river between them and the enemy, 



78 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

showed a disposition to continue their flight, without 
regard to the safety of their friends who were on foot, 
and still struggling with the current. 

Netherland instantly checked his horse, and in a loud 
voice called upon his companions to halt, fire upon the 
Indians, and save those who were still in the stream. 
The party instantly obeyed; and facing about, poured 
a close and fatal discharge of rifles upon the foremost 
of the pursuers. The enemy instantly fell back from 
the opposite bank, and gave time for the harassed and 
miserable footmen to cross in safety. The check, how- 
ever, was but momentary. Indians were seen crossing 
in great numbers abtve and below, and the flight again 
became general. Most of the foot left the gieat buHalo 
track, and plunging into the thickets, escaped by a cir- 
cuitous route to Bryant's Station. 

Bj^ little loss was sustained after crossing the river, 
* ""hough the pursuit, w^as urged keenly for twenty miles. 

torn the battle-ground to the ford, the loss w 7 as very 
heavy ; and at that stage of the retreat, there occurred 
a rare and striking instance of magnanimity, which it 
would be criminal to omit. The reader could not have 
forgotten Aaron Reynolds, who replied with such rough 
but ready humor to the pompous summons of Girty, at 
the siege of Bryant's. This young man, after bearing 
his share in the action with distinguished gallantry, was 
galloping with several other horsemen in order to reach 
the ford. The great body of fugitives had preceded 
them, and their situation w-as in the highest degree crit- 
ical and dangerous. 

A.bout half w r ay between the battle-ground and the 
river, the party overtook Captain Patterson, on foot, 
exhausted by the rapidity of the flight, and, in conse- 
quence of former wounds received from the Indians, so 
infirm as to be unable to keep up with the main body 
of the men on foot. The Indians were close behind 
him, and his fate seemed inevitable. Reynolds, upon 
coming up with this brave officer, instantly sprung from 
his horse, aided Patterson to mount into the saddle, and 
continued his own flight on foot. Being remarkably 
active and vigorous, he contrived to elude his pursuers, 



DANIEL BOONE. 79 

and turning off from the main road, plunged into the 
river near the spot where Boone had crossed, and swam 
in safety to the opposite side. Unfortunately, he wore 
a pair of buckskin breeches, which had become so heavy 
and full of water as to prevent his exerting himself with 
his usual activity; and while sitting down for the pur- 
pose of pulling them off, he was overtaken by a party 
of Indians, and made prisoner. 

A prisoner is rarely put to death by the Indians, un- 
less wounded or infirm, until they return to their own 
country ; and then his fate is decided in solemn council. 
Young Reynolds, therefore, was treated kindly, and 
compelled to accompany his captors in the pursuit. A 
smal' party of Kentuckians soon attracted their attention; 
ar v e was left in charge of three Indians, who, eager in 
pursuit, in turn committed him to the charge of one of 
their number while they followed their companions. Rey- 
nolds and his guard jogged along very leisurely; the 
former totally unarmed ; the latter, with a tomahawk and 
rifle in his hands. At length the Indian stopped to tie his 
moccasin, when Reynolds instantly sprung upon him, 
knocked him down with his fist, and quickly disap- 
peared in the thicket which surrounded them. For this 
act of generosity, Captain Patterson afterward made 
him a present of two hundred acres of first-rate land. 

Late in the evening of the same day, most of the 
survivors arrived at Bryant's Station. The melancholy 
intelligence spread rapidly throughout the country, and 
the whole land was covered with mourning. Sixty men 
had been killed in the battle and flight, and seven had 
been taken prisoners, part of whom were afterward put 
to death by the Indians, as was said, to make their loss 
even. This account, however, appears very improba- 
ble. It is almost incredible that the Indians should 
have suffered an equal loss. Their superiority of num- 
bers, their advantage of position (being in a great meas- 
ure sheltered, while the Kentuckians, particularly the 
horsemen, were much exposed), the extreme brevity of 
the battle, and the acknowledged bloodiness of the 
pursuit, all tend to contradict the report that the Indian 
loss exceeded ours. 
9 



80 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

We have no doubt that some of the prisoners were 
murdered after arriving at their towns, but can not be- 
lieve that the reason assigned for so ordinary a piece 
of barbarity was the true one. Still, the execution done 
by the Kentuckians, while the battle lasted, seems to 
liave been considerable, although far inferior to the loss 
which they themselves sustained. Todd and Trigg were 
a severe loss to their families, and to the country gener- 
ally. They were men of a rank in life superior to the 
ordinary class of settlers, and generally esteemed for 
courage, probity, and intelligence. The death of Major 
Harland was deeply and universally regretted. A keen 
courage, united to a temper the most amiable, and an 
integrity the most incorruptible, had rendered him ex- 
tremely popular in the country. 

Together with his friend, McBride, he accompanied 
McGary in the van, and both fell in the commencement 
of the action. McGary, notwithstanding the extreme 
exposure of his station, as leader of the van, and con- 
sequently most deeply involved in the ranks of the ene- 
my, escaped without the slightest injury. This gentle- 
men will ever be remembered, as associated with the 
disaster of which he was the immediate, although not 
the original cause. He has always been represented as 
a man of fiery and daring courage, strongly tinctured 
with ferocity, and unsoftenedby any of the humane and 
gentle qualities which awaken affection. In the hour 
of battle, his presence was invaluable; but in civil life, 
the ferocity of his temper rendered him an unpleasant 
companion. 

Several years after the battle of the Blue Licks, a 
gentleman of Kentucky, since dead, fell in company 
with McGary at one of the circuit courts, and the con- 
versation soon turned upon the battle. McGary frankly 
acknowledged that he, himself, was the immediate cause 
of the loss of blood on that day, and, with great heat 
and energy, assigned his reasons for urging on the battle. 
He said that, in the hurried council which was held at 
Bryant's on the eighteenth, he had strenuously urged 
Todd and Trigg to halt for twenty-four hours, assuring 
them, that with the aid of Logan they would be able 



DANIEL BOONE. 81 

to follow them even to Chillicotlie, if necessary, and 
that their numbers, then, were too weak to encounter 
them alone. He offered, he said, to pledge his head, 
that the Indians would not return with such precipita- 
tion as was supposed, but would afford ample time to 
collect more ibrce, and give them battle with a prospect 
of success. 

He added, that Colonel Todd scouted his arguments, 
and declared "that if a single day was lost, the In- 
dians would never be overtaken, but would cross the 
Ohio and disperse; that now was the time to strike 
them, while they were in a body; that to talk of their 
numbers was nonsense — the more the merrier; that for 
his part he was determined to pursue without a mo- 
ment's delay, and did not doubt that there were brave 
men enough on the ground, to enable him to attack 
them with effect." McGary declared "that he felt 
somewhat nettled at the manner in which his advice 
had been received. That he thought Todd and Trigg 
jealous of Logan, who, as senior colonel, would be en- 
titled to the command upon his arrival ; and that, in 
their eagerness to have the honor of the victory to 
themselves, they w r ere rashly throwing themselves into 
a condition, which would endanger the safety of the 
country." 

" How r ever, sir," continued he, with an air of un- 
amiable triumph, " when I saw T the gentlemen so keen 
for a fight, I gave way, and joined in the pursuit as 
willingly as any ; but when we came in sight of the 
enemy, and the gentlemen began to talk of ' numbers,' 
'position/ 'Logan,' and 'waiting,' I burst into a pas- 
sion, d d them for a set of cowards, who could not 

be wise, until they were scared into it, and swore that 
since they had come so far for a fight, they should fight, 
or I would disgrace them forever! That when I spoke 
of waiting for Logan on the day before, they had 
scouted the idea, and hinted something about ' cour- 
age' — that now it would be showm who had courage, 

or who w y ere d d cowards, that could talk big when 

the enemy was at a distance, but turned pale when 
danger was near. I then dashed into the river, and 



82 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

called upon all who were not cowards to follow ! " The 
gentleman upon whose authority this is given, added 
that, even then, McGary spoke with bitterness of the 
deceased colonels, and swore that they had received just 
what they deserved, and that he for one was glad of it. 

•That the charge of McGary, in its full extent, was 
unjust, there can be no doubt; at the same time, it is 
in accordance with the known principles of human na- 
ture, to suppose that the natural ardor of the officers, 
both young men, should be stimulated by the hope of 
gaining a victory, the honor of which would be given 
them as commanders. The number of the Indians was 
not distinctly known, and if their retreat had been or- 
dinarily precipitate, they would certainly have crossed 
the Ohio before Logan could have joined. But, leav- 
ing all the facts to speak for themselves, we will pro- 
ceed with our narrative. 

On the very day in which this rash and unfortunate 
battle was fought, Colonel Logan arrived at Bryant's 
Station, at the head of no less than four hundred and 
fifty men. He here learned that the little army had 
marched on the preceding day, without waiting for so 
strong, and necessary a reinforcement. Fearful of 
some such disaster as had actually occurred, he urged 
his march with the utmost diligence, still hoping to 
overtake them before they could cross the Ohio; but, 
within a few miles of the fort, he encountered the fore- 
most of the fugitives, whose jaded horses, and harassed 
looks, announced but too plainly the event of the battle. 

As usual With men after a defeat, they magnified the 
number of the enemy and the slaughter of their com- 
rades. None knew the actual extent of their loss. 
They could only be certain of their own escape, and 
could give no account of their companions. Fresh 
stragglers constantly came up, with the same mournful 
intelligence; so that Logan, after some hesitation, de- 
termined to return to Bryant's until all the survivors 
should come up. In the course of the evening, both 
horse and foot were re-assembled at Bryant's, and the 
Joss was distinctly ascertained. Although sufficiently 
severe, it was less than Logan had at first apprehended, 



DANIEL BOONE. 83 

and having obtained all the information which could be 
collected, as to the strength and probable destination 
of the enemy, he determined to continue his march to 
the battle-ground, with the hope that success would 
embolden the enemy, and induce them to remain until 
his arrival. 

On the second day he reached the field. The enemy 
were gone, but the bodies of the Kentuckians still lay 
unburied, on the spot where they had fallen. Immense 
flocks of buzzards were soaring over the battle-ground, 
and the bodies of the dead had become so much swol- 
len and disfigured, that it was impossible to recognize 
the features of the most particular friends. Many 
corpses were floating near the shore of the northern 
bank, already putrid from the action of the sun, and 
partially eaten by fishes. The whole were carefully 
collected by order of Colonel Logan, and interred as 
decently as the nature of the soil would permit. Being- 
satisfied that the Indians were by this time far beyond 
his reach, he then retraced his steps to Bryant's Station 
and dismissed his men. 

As soon as intelligence of the battle of the Blue 
Licks reached Colonel George Rogers Clark, who then 
resided at the Falls of Ohio, he determined to set on 
foot an expedition against the Indian towns for the 
purpose both of avenging the loss of the battle, and 
rousing the spirit of the country, which had begun to 
sink into the deepest dejection. He proposed that one 
thousand men should be raised from all parts of Ken- 
tucky, and should rendezvous at Cincinnati, under 
the command of their respective officers, where he en- 
gaged to meet them at the head of a part of the Illinois 
regiment, then under his command, together with one 
brass field-piece, which was regarded by the Indians 
with superstitious terror. The offer was embraced with 
great alacrity; and instant measures were taken for the 
collection of a sufficient number of volunteers. 

The whole force of the interior was assembled under 
the command of Colonel Logan, and descending the 
Licking in boats, prepared for the purpose, arrived 
safely at the designated point of union, where they 



84 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

were joined by Clark with the volunteers and regular 
detachment from below. No provision was made for 
the subsistence of the troops, and the sudden concen- 
tration of one thousand men and horses upon a single 
point, rendered it extremely difficult to procure the 
necessary supplies. The woods abounded in game ; but 
the rapidity and secrecy of their march, which was 
absolutely essential to the success of the expedition, 
did not allow them to disperse in search of it. They 
suffered greatly, therefore, from hunger as well as fa- 
tigue ; but all being accustomed to privations of every 
kind, they prosecuted their march with unabated rapid- 
ity, and appeared within a mile of one of their largest 
villages, without encountering a single Indian. 

Here, unfortunately, a straggler fell in with them, 
and instantly fled to the village, uttering the alarm 
whoop repeatedly in the shrillest and most startling 
tones. The troops pressed forward with great dis- 
patch, and entering their town, found it totally de- 
serted. The houses had evidently been abandoned only 
a few minutes before their arrival. Fires were burn- 
ing, meat was upon the roasting-sticks, and corn was 
still boiling in their kettles. The provisions were a 
most acceptable treat to the Kentuckians, who were 
well-nigh famished, but the escape of their enemies ex- 
cited deep and universal chagrin. 

After refreshing themselves, they engaged in the 
serious business of destroying the property of the 
tribes with unrelenting severity. Their villages were 
burnt, their corn cut up, and their whole country 
laid waste. During the whole of this severe, but nec- 
essary occupation, scarcely an Indian was to be seen. 
The alarm had spread universally, and every village 
was found de.erted. Occasionally, a solitary Indian 
would crawl up within gunshot, and deliver his fire; 
and once a small party mounted upon superb horses, 
rode up with great audacity, within musket-shot, and 
took a leisurely survey of the whole army, but upon 
seeing a detachment preparing to attack them, they 
galloped off with a rapidity which baffled pursuit. 

Boone accompanied this expedition, but, as usual, 



DANIEL BOONE. 85 

has omitted every thing which relates to himself. 
Here the brief memoir of Boone closes. It does not 
appear that he was afterward engaged in any public 
expedition, or solitary adventure. He continued a 
highly respectable citizen of Kentucky for several 
years, until the country became too thickly settled for 
his taste. As refinement of maimers advanced, and 
the general standard of intelligence became elevated 
by the constant arrival of families of rank and influ- 
ence, the rough old woodsman found himself entirely 
out of his element. He could neither read nor write ; 
the all-engaging subject of politics, which soon began 
to agitate the country with great violence, was to him 
as a sealed book, or an unknown language ; and for 
several years he wandered among the living group, 
which thronged the court-yard or the churches, like a 
venerable relic of other days. He was among them, 
but not of them ! He pined in secret for the wild and 
lonely forests of the west — for the immense prairie, 
trodden only by the buffalo or the elk ; and became 
eager to exchange the listless languor and security of 
a village for the healthful exercises of the chase, or the 
more thrilling excitement of savage w r arfare. 

In 1792, he dictated his brief and rather dry memoirs 
to some young gentleman who could write, and who has 
garnished it with a few flourishes of rhetoric, which 
passed off upon the old woodsman as a precious morsel 
of eloquence. He was never more gratified than when 
he could sit and hear it read to him by some one, who 
was willing, at so small an expense, to gratify the harm- 
less vanity of the kind-hearted old pioneer. He would 
listen with great earnestness, and occasionally rub his 
hands, smile, and ejaculate, "All true! every word 
true ! — not a lie in it ! " He shortly afterward left 
Kentucky and removed to Missouri. Hunting was 
his daily amusement, and almost his only occupation. 

Until the day of his death (and he lived to an un- 
usually advanced age), he was in the habit of remain- 
ing for days at a time in the forest, at a distance from 
the abodes of men, armed with a rifle, hatchet, knife, 
and having flints and steel to enable him to kindle a 



86 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

fire and broil the wild game upon which he depended 
for subsistence. When too old to walk through the 
woods, as was his custom when young, he would ride 
to a lick, and there lay in ambush all day for the sake 
of getting a shot at the herds of deer that were accus- 
tomed to visit the spot for the sake of the salt. We 
have heard that he died in the woods while laying in 
ambush near a lick, but have not at present the means 
of ascertaining, with certainty, the manner of his death. 

He has left behind him a name strongly written in 
the annals of Kentucky ; and a reputation for calm cour- 
age, softened by humanity, conducted by prudence, and 
embellished by a singular modesty of deportment. His 
person was rough, robust, and indicating strength rather 
than activity; his manner was cold, grave, and taciturn; 
his countenance, homely but kind ; his conversation, 
unadorned, unobtrusive, and touching only upon the 
" needful." He never spoke of himself, unless particu- 
larly queslioned; but the written account of his life 
was the Delilah of his imagination. The idea of "see- 
ing his name in print," completely overcame the cold 
philosophy of his general manner, and he seemed to 
think it a masterpiece of composition. 

The following incident is gathered from " Collins' Kentucky," 
page 385 : 

One morning, in 1777, several men in the fields near Boones- 
borough were attacked by Indians, and ran toward the fort. 
One was overtaken and tomahawked within seventy yards of 
the fort, and while being scalped, Simon Kenton shot the war- 
rior dead. Daniel Boone, with thirteen men, hastened to help 
his friends, but they were intercepted by a large body of Indians, 
who got between them and the fort. At the first fire from the 
Indians, seven whites were wounded, among them the gallant 
Boone. An Indian sprang upon him with uplifted tomahawk ; 
but Kenton, quick as a tiger, sprang toward the Indian, dis- 
charged his gun into his breast, snatched up the body of his 
noble leader and bore it safely into the fort. When the gate 
was closed securely against the Indians, Boone sent for Kenton : 
"Well, Simon," said the grateful old pioneer, "you have be- 
haved yourself like a man to-day — indeed, you are a fine fel- 
low." Boone was a remarkably silent man, and this was great 
praise from him. 



SIMON KENTON. 87 



CHAPTER III. 

SIMON KENTON was born in Fauquier County, 
Virginia, on the fifteenth of May, 1755, the ever- 
memorable year of Braddock's defeat. Of his early years 
nothing is known. His parents were poor, and, until 
the age of sixteen, his days seem to have passed away 
in the obscure and laborious drudgery of a farm. He 
was never taught to read or w T rite ; and to this early 
negligence, or inability on the part of his parents, is 
the poverty and desolation of his old age in a great 
measure to be attributed. At the age of sixteen, by 
an unfortunate adventure, he was launched into life 
with no other fortune than a stout heart and a robust 
set of limbs. It seems that, young as he was, his heart 
had become entangled in the snares of a young coquette 
in the neighborhood, who was grievously perplexed by 
the necessity -of choosing one husband out of many 
lovers. 

Young Kenton and a robust farmer by the name of 
Leitchman seem to have been the most favored suitors, 
and the young lady not being able to decide upon their 
respective merits, they took the matter into their own 
hands; and, in consequence of foul play on the part 
of Leitchman's friends, young Kenton was beaten with 
great severity. He submitted to his fate for the time 
in silence, but internally vowed that, as soon as he had 
obtained his full growth he would take ample vengeance 
upon his rival for the disgrace which he had sustained 
at his hands. He waited patiently until the following 
spring, when, finding himself six feet high, and full of 
health and action, he determined to delay the hour of 
retribution no longer. 
. He accordingly walked over to Leitchman's house one 



88 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

morning, and finding him busily engaged in carrying 
shingles from the woods to his own house, he stopped 
him, told him his object, and desired him to adjourn to 
a spot more convenient for the purpose. Leitchman, 
confident in his superior age aud strength, was not 
backward in testifying his willingness to indulge him in 
so amiable a pastime, and, having reached a solitary 
spot in the woods, they both stripped and prepared for 
the encounter. The battle was fought with all the fury 
which mutual hate, jealousy, and herculean power on 
both sides could supply; and after a severe round, in 
which considerable damage was done and received, 
Kenton was brought to the ground. 

Leitchman (as usual in Virginia) sprung upon him 
without the least scruple, and added the most bitter 
taunts to the kicks with which he saluted him from his 
head to his heels, reminding him of his former defeat, 
and rubbing salt into the raw wounds of jealousy by 
triumphant allusions to his own superiority both in love 
and war. During these active operations on the part 
of Leitchman, Kenton lay perfectly still, eyeing atten- 
tively a small bush which grew near them. It instantly 
occurred to him that it' he could wind Leitchman's hair 
(which was remarkably long) around this bush, he 
would be able to return those kicks which were now 
bestowed upon him in such profusion. The difficulty 
was, to get his antagonist near enough. 

This he at length effected in the good old Virginia 
style, viz: by biting him en arriere, and compelling him, 
by short springs, to approach the bush, much as a bul- 
lock is goaded on to approach the fatal ring, where all 
his struggles are useless. When near enough, Kenton 
suddenly exerted himself violently, and succeeded in 
wrapping the long hair of his rival around the sapling. 
He then sprung to his feet and inflicted a terrible 
revenge for all his past injuries. In a few seconds, 
Leitchman was gasping apparently in the agonies of 
death. Kenton instantly fled, without even returning 
for an additional supply of clothing, and directed his 
steps westward. 

During the first day of his journey he traveled in 



SIMON KENTON. 89 

much agitation. He supposed that Leitchman was 
dead, and that the hue and cry would instantly be 
raised after himself as the murderer. The constant 
apprehension of a gallows lent wings to his flight, and 
he scarcely allowed himself a moment for refreshment 
until he had reached the neighborhood of the Warm 
Springs, where the settlements were thin, and the im- 
mediate danger of pursuit was over. Here he fortu- 
nately fell in with an exile from the State of New 
Jersey, of the name of Johnson, who was traveling 
westward on foot, and driving a single pack-horse, 
laden with a few necessaries, before him. They soon 
became acquainted, related their adventures to each 
other, and agreed to travel together. 

They plunged boldly into the wilderness of the 
Alleghany Mountains, and subsisting upon wild game 
and a small quantity of flour which Johnson had 
brought with him, they made no halt until they arrived 
at a small settlement on Cheat River, one of the prongs 
of the Monongahela. Here the two friends separated, 
and Kenton (who had assumed the name of Butler), 
attached himself to a small company, headed by John 
Mahon and Jacob Greathouse, who had united for the 
purpose of exploring the country. They quickly built 
a large canoe, and descended the river as far as the 
Province's settlement. There Kenton became ac- 
quainted with two young adventurers, Yager and 
Strader, the former of whom had been taken by the 
Indians when a child, and had spent many years in 
their village. 

He informed Kenton that I here was a country below T , 
which the Indians called Kan-tuck-ee, which was a 
perfect Elysium ; that the ground was not only the 
richest, and the vegetation the most luxuriant in the 
world, but that the immense herds of buffalo and 
elk, which ranged at large through its forests, would 
appear incredible to one who had never witnessed such 
a spectacle. He added, that it was entirely uninhab- 
ited, and was open to all who chose to hunt there ; 
that he himself had often accompanied the Indians in 
their grand hunting parties through the country, and 



90 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

was confident that he could conduct him to the same 
ground, if he was willing- to venture. 

Kenton eagerly closed with the proposal, and an- 
nounced his readiness to accompany him immediately. 
A canoe was speedily procured, and the three young 
men committed themselves to the waters of the Ohio, 
in search of the enchanted hunting-ground, which 
Yager had visited in his youth, while a captive among 
the Indians. Yager had no idea of its exact distance 
from Province's settlement. He recollected only that 
he had crossed the Ohio in order to reach it, and de- 
clared that, by sailing down the river for a few days, 
they would come to the spot where the Indians were 
accustomed to cross, and assured Kenton that there 
would be no difficulty in recognizing it, that its appear- 
ance was different from all the rest of the world, etc. 

Fired by Yager's glowing description of its beauty, 
and eager to reach this new El Dorado of the West, 
the young men rowed hard for several days, confi- 
dently expecting that every bend of the river would 
usher them into the land of promise. No such coun- 
try, however, appeared ; and at length Kenton and 
Strader became rather skeptical as to its existence at 
all. They rallied Yager freely upon the subject, who 
still declared positively that they would soon witness 
the confirmation of all that he had said. After de- 
scending, however, as low as the spot where Manches- 
ter now stands, and seeing nothing which resembled 
Yager's country, they held a council, in which it was 
determined to return, and survey ~the country more 
carefully; Yager still insisting that they must have 
passed it in the night. They accordingly retraced their 
steps, and successively explored the land about Salt 
Lick, Little and Big Sandy, and Guyandotte. At 
length, being totally wearied out in searching for what 
had no existence, they turned their attention entirely 
to hunting and trapping, and spent nearly two years 
upon the Great Kenawha, in this agreeable and prof- 
itable occupation. They obtained clothing in exchange 
for their furs from the traders of Fort Pitt, and the 
forest supplied them abundantly with wild game for food. 



/SIMON KENTON. 91 

In March, 1773, while reposing in their tent, after 
the labors of the day, they were suddenly attacked by 
a party of Indians. Strader was killed at the first 
fire, and Kenton and Yager with difficulty effected 
their escape ; being compelled to abandon their guns, 
blankets, and provisions, and commit themselves to 
the wilderness, without the means of sheltering them- 
selves from the cold, procuring a morsel of food, or 
even kindling a fire. They were far removed from 
any white settlement, and had no other prospect than 
that of perishing by famine, or falling a sacrifice to the 
fury of such Indians as might chance to meet them. 
Reflecting, however, that it was never too late for 
men to be utterly lost, they determined to strike 
through the woods for the Ohio River, and take such 
fortune as it should please heaven to bestow. 

Directing their route by the barks of trees, they 
pressed forward in a straight direction for the Ohio, 
and during the two first days allayed the piercing pangs 
of hunger by chewing such roots as they could find on 
their way. On the third day their strength began to 
fail, and the keen appetite which, at first, had con- 
stantly tortured them, w T as succeeded by a nausea, ac- 
companied with dizziness and a sinking of the heart, 
bordering on despair. On the fourth day, they often 
threw themselves upon the ground, determined to await 
the approach of death ; and as often were stimulated 
by the instinctive love of life to arise and resume their 
journey. On the fifth, they w r ere completely exhausted, 
and were able only to crawl at intervals. In this man- 
ner they traveled about a mile during the day, and 
succeeded, by sunset, in reaching the banks of the 
Ohio. Here, to their inexpressible joy, they encoun- 
tered a party of traders, from wdiom they obtained a 
comfortable supply of provisions. 

The traders Avere so much startled at the idea of 
being exposed to perils, such as those which Kenton 
and Yager had just escaped, that they lost no time in 
removing from such a dangerous vicinity, and instantly 
returned to the mouth of the Little Kenawha, where 
they met with Dr. Briscoe at the head of another 



92 WESTERN AD VENTURE. 

exploring party. From him, Kenton obtained a rifle 
and some ammunition, with which he again plunged 
alone into the forest, and hunted with success until the 
summer of 1773 was far advanced. Returning, then, 
to the Little Kenawha, he found a party of fourteen 
men under the direction of Dr. Wood and Hancock 
Lee, who were descending the Ohio with the view of 
joining Captain Bullitt, who was supposed to be at the 
mouth of the Scioto, with a large party. 

Kenton instantly joined them, and descended the 
river in canoes as far as the Three Islands, landing 
frequently and examining the country on each side of 
the river. At the Three Islands they were alarmed by 
the approach of a large party of Indians, by whom 
they were compelled to abandon their canoes and strike 
diagonally through the wilderness for Greenbriar 
County, Va. They suffered much during this journey 
from fatigue and famine, and were compelled at one time 
(notwithstanding the danger of their situation) to halt 
for fourteen days and wait upon Dr. Wood, who had 
unfortunately been bitten by a copperhead snake, and 
rendered incapable of moving for that length of time. 
Upon reaching the settlements the party separated. 

Kenton, not wishing to venture to Virginia (having 
heard nothing of Leitchman's recovery), built a canoe 
on the banks of the Monongahela, and returning to the 
mouth of the Great Kenawha, hunted with success 
until the spring of 1774, when a war broke out 
between the Indian tribes and the colonies, occasioned, 
in a great measure, by the murder of the celebrated 
chief Logan's family, by Captain Cresap. Kenton 
was not in the great battle near the mouth of the Ke- 
nawha, but acted as a spy throughout the whole of the 
campaign, in the course of which he traversed the 
country around Fort Pitt, and a large portion of the 
present State of Ohio. 

When Dunmore's forces were disbanded, Kenton, in 
company with two others, determined on making a 
second effort to discover the rich lands bordering on the 
Ohio, of which Yager had spoken. Having built a 
canoe, and provided themselves abundantly with am- 






SIMON KENTON. 93 

munition, they descended the river as far as the mouth 
of Big Bone Creek, upon which the celebrated Lick 
of that name is situated. They there disembarked, 
and explored the country for several days ; but not 
finding the land equal to their expectations, they re- 
ascended the river as far as the mouth of Cabin Creek, 
a few miles above Maysville. 

From this point, they set out with a determination 
to examine the country carefully, until they could find 
land answering, in some degree, to Yager's description. 
In a short time, they reached the neighborhood of 
May's Lick, and for the first time were struck with 
the uncommon beauty of the country and fertility of 
the soil. Here they fell in with the great buffalo 
trace, which, in a few hours, brought them to the 
Lower Blue Lick. The flats upon each side of the 
river were crowded with immense herds of buffalo, 
that had come down from the interior for the sake of 
the salt ; and a number of elk were seen upon the bare 
ridges which surrounded the springs. Their great 
object w-as now achieved. They had discovered a 
country far more rich than any which they had yet 
beheld, and where the game seemed as abundant as 
the grass of the plain. 

After remaining a few days at the Lick, and killing 
an immense number of deer and buffalo, they crossed 
the Licking, and passed through the present counties 
of Scott, Fayette, Woodford, Clarke, Montgomery, 
and Bath ; when, falling in with another buffalo 
trace, it conducted them to the Upper Blue Lick, 
where they again beheld elk and buffalo in immense 
numbers. Highly gratified at the success of their 
expedition, they quickly returned to their canoe, and 
ascended the river as far as Green Bottom, where 
they had left their skins, some ammunition, and a few 
hoes, which they had procured at' Kenawha with the 
view of cultivating the rich ground which they ex- 
pected to find. 

Returning as quickly as possible, they built a cabin 
on the spot where the town of Washington now stands, 
and having cleared an acre of ground in the center of 



94 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

a large canebrake, they planted it with Indian corn. 
Strolling about the country in various directions, they 
one day fell in with two white men near the Lower Blue 
Lick, who had lost their guns, blankets, and ammuni- 
tion, and were much distressed for provisions and the 
means of extricating themselves from the wilderness. 
They informed them that their names were Fitzpatrick 
and Hendricks; that, in descending the Ohio, their 
canoe had been overset by a sudden squall, and that 
they were compelled to swim ashore, without being able 
to save any thing from the wreck ; that they had wan- 
dered thus far through the woods, in the effort to pene- 
trate through the country to the settlements above, but 
must infallibly perish unless they could be furnished 
with guns and ammunition. 

Kenton informed them of the small settlement which 
he had opened at Washington, and invited them to join 
him and share such fortune as Providence might bestow. 
Hendricks consented to remain; but Fitzpatrick, being 
heartily sick of the woods, insisted upon returning to 
the Monongahela. Kenton and his two friends ac- 
companied Fitzpatrick to "the point," as it was then 
called, being the spot where Maysville now stands, and, 
having given him a gun, etc., assisted him in crossing 
the river, and took leave of him on the other side. 

In the meantime, Hendricks had been left at the Blue 
Lick, without a gun, but with a good supply of provis- 
ions, until the party could return from the river. As 
soon as Fitzpatrick had gone, Kenton and his two friends 
hastened to return to the Lick, not doubting for a mo- 
ment that they would find Hendricks in camp as they 
had left him. Upon arriving at the point where the 
tent had stood, however, they were alarmed at finding 
it deserted, with evident marks of violence around it. 
Several bullet-holes were to be seen in the poles of 
which it was constructed, and various articles belong- 
ing to Hendricks were tossed about in too negligent a 
manner to warrant the belief that it had been done by 
him. 

At a little distance from the camp, in a low ravine, 
they observed a thick smoke, as if from a fire just be- 



/SIMON KENTON. 95 

ginning to burn. They did not doubt for a moment 
that Hendricks had fallen into the hands of the Indians, 
and, believing* that a party of them were then assembled 
around the fire which was about to be kindled, they be- 
took themselves to their heels, and fled faster and farther 
than true chivalry, perhaps, would -justify. They re- 
mained at a distance until the evening of the next day, 
when they ventured cautiously to return to camp. The 
fire was still burning, although faintly ; and, after care- 
fully reconnoitering the adjacent ground, they ventured 
at length to approach the spot, and there beheld the 
skull and bones of their unfortunate friend ! 

He had evidently been roasted to death by a party of 
Indians, and must have been alive at the time when 
Kenton and his companions approached on the preced- 
ing day. It was a subject of deep regret to the party 
that they had not reconnoitered the spot more closely, as 
it was probable that their friend might have been res- 
cued. The number of Indians might have been small, 
and a brisk and unexpected attack might have dispersed 
them. Regret, however, was now unavailing; and they 
sadly retraced their steps to their camp at Washington, 
pondering upon the uncertainty of their own condition 
and upon the danger to which they were hourly ex- 
posed from the numerous bands of hostile Indians who 
were prowling around them in every direction. 

They remained at Washington, entirely undisturbed, 
until the month of September ; when, again visiting the 
Lick, they saw a white man, who informed them that 
the interior of the country was already occupied by the 
whites, and that there was a thriving settlement atBoones- 
borough. Highly gratified at this intelligence, and anx- 
ious once more to enjoy the society of men, they broke 
up their encampment at Washington and visited the 
different stations which had been formed in the country. 
Kenton sustained two sieges in Boonesborough, and 
served as a spy, with equal diligence and success, until 
the summer of 1778, when Boone, returning from cap- 
tivity, as has already been mentioned, concerted an ex- 
pedition against the small Indian town on Paint Creek. 

Kenton acted as a spy on this expedition ; and, after 



96 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

crossing the Ohio, being some distance in advance of 
the rest, he was suddenly startled by hearing a loud 
laugh from an adjoining thicket, which he was just 
about to enter. Instantly halting, he took his station 
behind a tree, and waited anxiously for a repetition of 
the noise. In a few minutes, two Indiaus approached 
the spot where he lay, both mounted upon a small 
pony, and chatting and laughing in high good humor. 
Having permitted them to approach within good rifle 
distance, he raised his gun, and, aiming at the breast 
of the foremost, pulled the trigger. Both Indians fell — 
one shot dead, the other severely wounded. 

Their frightened pony galloped back into the cane, 
giving the alarm to the rest of the party, who were 
some distance in the rear. Kenton instantly ran up to 
scalp the dead man and to tomahawk his wounded com- 
panion, according to the usual rule of western warfare; 
but, when about to put an end to the struggles of the 
wounded Indian, who did not seem disposed to submit 
very quietly to the operation, his attention was attracted 
by a rustling of the cane on his right, and, turning 
rapidly in that direction, he beheld two Indians within 
twenty steps of him, very deliberately taking aim at his 
person. A quick spring to one side, on his part, was 
instantly followed by the flash and report of their rifles; 
the balls whistled close to his ears, causing him invol- 
untarily to duck his head, but doing him no injury. 

Not liking so hot a neighborhood, and being igno- 
rant of the number which might yet be behind, he lost 
no time in regaining the shelter of the wood, leaving 
the dead Indian unseal ped and the wounded man to the 
care of his friends. Scarcely had 'he treed, when a 
dozen Indians appeared on the edge of the canebrake, 
and seemed disposed to press upon him with more vigor 
than was consistent with the safety of his present position. 
His fears, however, were instantly relieved by the ap- 
pearance of Boone and his party, who came running 
up as rapidly as a due regard to the shelter of their per- 
sons would permit, and, opening a brisk fire upon the 
Indians, quickly compelled them to regain the shelter 
of the canebrake, with the loss of several wounded, who, 



SIMON KENTON. 97 

as usual, were carried off. The dead Indian, in the 
hurry of the retreat, was abandoned, and Kenton at 
last had the gratification of taking his scalp. 

Boone, as has already been mentioned, instantly re- 
traced his steps to Boonesborough; but Kenton and 
his friend Montgomery determined to proceed alone to 
the Indian town, and at least obtain some recompense 
for the trouble of their journey. Approaching the vil- 
lage with the cautious and stealthy pace of the cat or 
panther, they took their stations upon the edge of the 
cornfield, supposing that the Indians would enter it as 
usual to gather roasting-ears. They remained here pa- 
tiently all day; but did not see a single Indian, and 
heard only the voices of some children, who were play- 
ing near them. Being disappointed in the hope of get- 
ting a shot, they entered the Indian town in the night, 
and, stealing four good horses, made a rapid night's 
march for the Ohio, which they crossed in safety, and, 
on the second day afterward, reached Logan's Fort with 
their booty. 

Scarcely had he returned, when Colonel Bowman or- 
dered him to take his friend Montgomery, and another 
young man named Clark, and go on a secret expedition 
to an Indian town on the Little Miami, against which 
the colonel meditated an expedition, and of the exact 
condition of which he wished to have certain informa- 
tion. They instantly set out, in obedience to their or- 
ders, and reached the neighborhood of the tow r n without 
being discovered. They examined it attentively, and 
walked around the houses during the night with perfect 
impunity. Thus far all had gone well; and had they 
been contented to return after the due execution of their 
orders, they would have avoided the heavy calamity 
which awaited them. 

But, unfortunately, during their nightly promenade, 
they stumbled upon a pound in which were a number 
of Indian horses. The temptation was not to be re- 
sisted. They each mounted a horse ; but, not satisfied 
with that, they could not find it in their hearts to leave 
a single animal behind them, and, as some of the horses 
seemed indisposed to change masters, the affair was at- 



98 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

tended with so much fracas that at last they were dis- 
covered. The cry ran through the village at once that 
the Long Knives were stealing their horses right before 
the doors of their wigwams ; and old and young, squaws, 
boys, and warriors, all sallied out with loud screams 
to save their property from these greedy spoilers. Ken- 
ton and his friends quickly discovered that they had 
overshot the mark, and that they must ride for their 
lives ; but, even in this extremity, they could not bring 
themselves to give up a single horse which they had 
haltered, and while two of them rode in front and led, 
I know not how many horses, the other brought up the 
rear, and, plying his whip from right to left, did not per- 
mit a single animal to lag behind. 

In this manner they dashed through the woods at a 
furious rate, with the hue and cry after them, until 
their course was suddenly stopped by an impenetrable 
swamp. Here, from necessity, they paused for a few 
moments and listened attentively. Hearing no sounds 
of pursuit, they resumed their course ; and, skirting 
the swamp for some distance in the vain hope of cross- 
ing it, they bent their course in a straight direction 
toward the Ohio. They rode during the whole night 
without resting a moment ; and, halting for a few min- 
utes at daylight, they continued their journey through- 
out the day, and the whole of the following night, and 
by this uncommon expedition, on the morning of the 
second day, they reached the northern bank of the Ohio 
River. 

Crossing the river would now insure their safety; 
but this was likely to prove a difficult undertaking, and 
the close pursuit which they had reason to expect ren- 
dered it necessary to lose as little time as possible. The 
wind was high and the river rough and boisterous. It 
was determined that Kenton should cross with the 
horses, while Clark and Montgomery should construct 
a raft in order to transport their guns, baggage, and 
ammunition to the opposite shore. The necessary prep- 
arations were soon made, and Kenton, after forcing his 
horses into the river, plunged in himself and swam 
by their side. In a very few minutes the high waves 



SIMON KENTON M 

completely overwhelmed him and forced him consider- 
ably below the horses, that stemmed the current much 
more vigorously than himself. 

The horses, being thus left to themselves, turned 
about and swam again to the Ohio shore, where Ken- 
ton was compelled to follow them. Again he forced 
them into the water; and again they returned to the 
same spot — until Kenton became so exhausted by re- 
peated efforts as to be unable to swim. A council w r as 
then held and the question proposed, " What was to be 
done?" That the Indians would pursue them, was cer- 
tain; that the horses would not, and could not be made 
to cross the river in its present state, w T as equally cer- 
tain. Should they abandon their horses and cross on 
the raft, or remain with their horses and take such 
fortune as heaven should send them? The latter al- 
ternative was unanimously adopted. Death or captivity 
might be tolerated, but the loss of so beautiful a lot 
of horses, after having worked so hard for them, was 
not to be thought of for a moment. 

As soon as it was determined that themselves and 
horses were to share the same fate, it again became 
necessary to fix upon some probable plan of saving 
them. Should they move up or down the river, or 
remain where they were? The latter course was 
adopted. It was supposed that the wind would fall at 
sunset, and the river become sufficiently calm to admit 
of their passage ; and, as it was supposed probable that 
the Indians might be upon them before night, it was 
determined to conceal the horses in a neighboring ra- 
vine, while they should take their stations in the ad- 
joining wood. A more miserable plan could not have 
been adopted. If they could not consent to sacrifice 
their horses in order to save their own lives, they 
should have moved either up or down the river, and 
thus have preserved the distance from the Indians 
which their rapidity of movement had gained. 

The Indians would have followed their trail, and be- 
ing twenty-four hours' march behind them, could never 
have overtaken them. But neglecting this obvious 
consideration, they stupidly sat down until sunset, ex- 



100 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

pecting that the river would become more calm. The 
day passed away in tranquillity, but at night the wind 
blew harder than ever, and the water became so rough, 
that even their raft would have been scarcely able to 
cross. Not an instant more should have been lost, in 
moving from so dangerous a post ; but as if totally 
infatuated, they remained where they were until morn- 
ing ; thus wasting twenty-four hours of most precious 
time in total idleness. In* the morning, the wind 
abated and the river became calm — but it was now 
too late. Their horses, recollecting the difficulty of 
the passage on the preceding day, had become as ob- 
stinate and heedless as their masters, and positively and 
repeatedly refused to take the water. 

Finding every effort to compel them entirely una- 
vailing, their masters at length determined to do what 
ought to have been done at first. Each resolved to 
mount a horse, and make the best of his way down 
the river to Louisville. Had even this resolution, 
however tardily adopted, been executed with decision, 
the party would probably have been saved, but after 
they were mounted, instead of leaving the ground in- 
stantly, they went back upon their own trail, in the 
vain effort to regain possession of the rest of their 
horses, which had broken from them in the last effort 
to drive them into the water. They wearied out their 
good genius, and literally fell victims to their love for 
horse-flesh. 

They had scarcely ridden one hundred yards (Kenton 
in the center, the others upon the flanks, with an inter- 
val of two hundred yards between them), when Kenton 
heard a loud halloo, apparently coming from the spot 
which they had just left. Instead of getting out of 
the way as fast as possible, and trusting to the speed of 
his horse, and the thickness of the wood for safety, he 
put the last capping-stone to his imprudence, and dis- 
mounting, walked leisurely back to meet his pursuers, 
and thus give them as little trouble as possible. He 
quickly beheld three Indians, and one white man, all 
well mounted. Wishing to give the alarm to his com- 
panions, he raised his rifle to his shoulder, took a 



SIMON KENTOX. 101 

steady aim at the breast of the foremost Indian, and 
drew the trigger. His gun had become wet on the raft, 
and flashed. 

The enemy were instantly alarmed, and dashed at 
him. Now, at last, when flight could be of no service, 
Kenton betook himself to his heels, and was pursued 
by four horsemen at full speed. He instantly directed 
his steps to the thickest part of the wood, where there 
was much fallen timber and a rank growth of under- 
wood, and had succeeded, as he thought, in baffling his 
pursuers, when, just as he was leaving the fallen tim- 
ber and entering the open wood, an Indian on horse- 
back galloped round the corner of the wood, and ap- 
proached him so rapidly as to render flight useless. 
The horseman rode up, holding out his hand and call- 
ing out, "Brother! brother!" in a tone of great affec- 
tion. Kenton observes that if his gun would have 
made fire, he would have " brothered " him to his heart's 
content, but being totally unarmed, he called out that 
he would surrender if they would give him quarter and 
good treatment. 

Promises were cheap with the Indian, and he 
showered them out by the dozen, continuing all the 
while to advance with extended hands and a writhing 
grin upon his countenance, which was intended for a 
smile of courtesy. Seizing Kenton's hand, he grasped 
it with violence. Kenton, not liking the manner of 
his captor, raised his gun to knock him down, when 
an Indian who had followed him closely through the 
brushwood, instantly sprung upon his back, and pin- 
ioned his arms to his side. The one who had just ap- 
proached him, then seized him by the hair and shook 
him until his teeth rattled, while the rest of the party 
coming up, they all fell upon Kenton with their 
tongues and ramrods, until he thought they would 
scold or beat him to death. They were the owners of 
the horses w T hich he had carried off, and now 7 took am- 
ple revenge for the loss of their property. At every 
stroke of their ramrods over his head (and they were 
neither few nor far between), they would repeat, in a 
tone of strong indignation, "Steal Indian boss! hey!" 



102 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

Their attention, however, was soon directed to Mont- 
gomery, who, having heard the noise attending Ken- 
ton's capture, very gallantly hastened up to his assist- 
ance; while Clark very prudently consulted his own 
safety in betaking himself to his heels, leaving his un- 
fortunate companions to shift for themselves. Mont- 
gomery halted within gunshot, and appeared busy with 
the pan of his gun, as if preparing to fire. Two Indi- 
ans instantly sprung off in pursuit of him, while the 
rest attended to Kenton. In a few minutes Kenton 
heard the crack of two rifles in quick succession, fol- 
lowed by a hallo;), which announced the fate of his 
friend. The Indians quickly returned, waving the 
bloody scalp of Montgomery, and with countenances and 
gestures which menaced him with a similar fate. 

They then proceeded to secure their prisoner. They 
first compelled him to lie upon his back, and stretched 
out his arms to their full length. They then passed a 
stout stick at right angles across his breast, to each ex- 
tremity of which his wrists were fastened by thongs 
made of Buffalo's hide. Stakes were then driven into 
the earth near his feet, to whicli they were fastened in 
a similar manner. A halter was then tied around his 
neck and fastened to a sapling which grew near ; and, 
finally, a strong rope was passed under his belly, lashed 
strongly to the pole which lay transversely upon his 
breast, and finally wrapped around his arms at the el- 
bows in such a manner as to pinion them to the pole 
with a painful violence, and render him literally inca- 
pable of moving hand, foot, or head in the slightest 
manner. 

During the whole of this severe operation, neither 
their tongues nor hands were by any means idle. They 
cuffed him from time to time with great heartiness, 
until his ears rang again; and abused him for a "tief! 

a hoss steal! a rascal!" and finally, for a "d d 

white man ! " I may here observe that all the western 
Indians had picked up a good many English words, 
particularly our oaths, which, from the frequency with 
which they were used by our hunters and traders, they 
probably looked upon as the very root and foundation 



SIMON KENTOX. 103 

of the English language. Kenton remained in this 
painful attitude throughout the night, lookiug forward 
to certain death, and most probably torture, as soon as 
he should reach their towns. Their rage against him 
seemed to increase, rather than abate from indulgence, 
and in the morning it displayed itself in a form at once 
ludicrous and cruel. 

Among the horses which Kenton had taken, and 
which their original owners had now recovered, w T as a 
fine but wild young colt, totally unbroken, and with all 
his honors of mane and tail undocked. Upon him Ken- 
ton was mounted, without saddle or bridle, with his 
hands tied behind him and his feet fastened under the 
horse's belly. The country was rough and bushy, and 
Kenton had no means of protecting his face from the 
brambles through w T hich it was expected that the colt 
would dash. As soon as the rider w r as firmly fastened to 
his back, the colt w T as turned loose, with a sudden lash ; 
but, after executing a few curvets and caprioles, to the 
great distress of his rider, but to the infinite amusement 
of the Indians, he appeared to take compassion on his 
rider, and, falling into a line with the other horses, 
avoided the brambles entirely, and went on very well. 
In this manner he rode through the day. At night he 
was taken from the horse and confined as before. 

On the third day they came within a few miles of 
Chillicothe. Here the party halted and dispatched a 
messenger to inform the village of their arrival, in or- 
der, I suppose, to give them time to prepare for his re- 
ception. In a short time, Blackfish, one of their chiefs, 
arrived, and, regarding Kenton with a stern countenance, 
thundered out, in very good English, " You have been 
stealing horses?" "Yes, sir." "Did Captain Boone 
tell you to steal our horses ? " " No, sir ; I did it of my 
own accord." This frank confession was too irritating 
to be borne. Blackfish made no reply ; but, brandish- 
ing a hickory switch which he held in his hand, he ap- 
plied it so briskly to Kenton's naked back and shoulders 
as to bring the blood freely and occasion acute pain. 

Thus, alternately beaten and scolded, he inarched on 
to the village. At the distance of a mile from Chilli- 
11 



104 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

cothe, lie saw every inhabitant of the town, men, women, 
and children, running out to feast their eyes with a 
view of the prisoner. Every individual, down to the 
smallest child, appeared in a paroxysm of rage.- They 
whooped, they yelled, they hooted, they clapped their 
hands, and poured upon him a flood of abuse to which 
all that he had yet received was gentleness and civility. 
With loud cries they demanded that their prisoner 
should be tied to the stake. The hint was instantly 
complied with. 

A stake was quickly fastened into the ground. The 
remnant of Kenton's shirt and breeches were torn from 
his person (the squaws officiating with great dexterity 
in both operations") ; and his hands, being tied together 
and raised above his head, were fastened to the top of 
the stake. The whole party then danced around him 
until midnight, yelling and screaming in their usual 
frantic manner, striking him with switches, and slap- 
ping him with the palms of their hands. He expected 
every moment to undergo the torture of fire ; but that 
was reserved for another time. They wished to pro- 
long the pleasure of tormenting him as much as possi- 
ble, and, after having caused him to anticipate the bit- 
terness of death until a late hour of the night, they re- 
leased him from the stake and conveyed him to the 
village. 

Early in the morning he beheld the scalp of Mont- 
gomery, stretched upon a hoop and drying in the air, 
before the door of one of their principal houses. He was 
quickly led out and ordered to run the gauntlet. A 
row of boys, women, and men extended to the distance 
of a quarter of a mile. At the starting-place stood two 
grim-looking warriors, with butcher-knives in their 
hands ; at the extremity of the line was an Indian, beat- 
ing a drum ; and a few paces beyond the drum was the 
door of the council-house. Clubs, switches, hoe-handles, 
and tomahawks were brandished along the whole line, 
causing the sweat involuntarily to stream from his 
pores at the idea of the discipline which his naked skin 
was to receive during the race. 

The moment for starting arrived ; the great drum at 



SIMON KENTON. 105 

the door of the council-house was struck, and Kenton 
sprung forward in the race. A scene, precisely resem- 
bling a splendid picture in the " Last of the Mohicans," 
now took place. Kenton avoided the row of his ene- 
mies, and, turning to the east, drew the whole party in 
pursuit of him. He doubled several times with great 
activity, and at length, observing an evening, he darted 
through it, and pressed forward to the council-house 
with a rapidity which left his pursuers far behind. One 
or two of the Indians succeeded in throwing themselves 
between him and the goal, and from these alone he re- 
ceived a few blows, but was much less injured than he 
could at first have supposed possible. 

As soon as the race was over, a council was held, in 
order to determine whether he should be burnt to death 
on the spot or carried round to the other villages and 
exhibited to every tribe. The arbiters of his fate sat in 
a circle on the floor of the council-house, while the un- 
happy prisoner, naked and bound, A\as committed to the 
care of a guard in the open air. The deliberation com- 
menced. Each warrior sat in silence, while a large war- 
club was passed round the circle. Those who were op- 
posed to burning the prisoner on the spot were to pass 
the club in silence to the next warrior ; those in favor 
of burning were to strike the earth violently with the 
club before passing it. 

A teller was appointed to count the votes. This dig- 
nitary quickly reported that the opposition had pre- 
vailed; that his execution was suspended for the pres- 
ent, and that it was determined to take him to an In- 
dian town on Mad River, called Waughcotomoco. His 
fate was quickly announced to him by a renegade white 
man, who acted as interpreter. Kenton felt rejoiced at 
the issue ; but naturally became anxious to know what 
was in reserve for him at Waughcotomoco. He accord- 
ingly asked the white man, " What the Indians intended 
to do with him upon reaching the appointed place?" 

- 'Burn you, G d d n you!" was the ferocious 

reply. He asked no further question, and the scowling 
interpreter walked away. 

Instantly preparations were made for his departure, 



106 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

and, to his great joy as well as astonishment, his clothes 
were restored to him and he was permitted to remain 
unbound. Thanks to the ferocious intimation of the 
interpreter, he was aware of the fate in reserve for him, 
and secretly determined that he would never reach 
Waughcotomoco alive if it was possible to avoid it. 
Their route lay through an unpruned forest, abounding 
in thickets and undergrowth. Unbound as he was, it 
would not be impossible to escape from the hands of 
his conductors; and if he could once enter the thickets, 
he thought that he might be enabled to baffle his pur- 
suers. At the worst, he could only be retaken ; and 
the fire would burn no hotter after an attempt to es- 
cape than before. During the whole of their march 
he remained abstracted and silent, often meditating an 
effort for liberty and as often shrinking from the peril 
of the attempt. 

At length he was aroused from his reverie by the 
Indians firing off their guns, and raising the shrill 
scalp halloo. The signal was soon answered, and the 
deep roll of a drum was heard far in front, announcing 
to the unhappy prisoner that they were approaching 
an Indian town, where the gauntlet certainly, and per- 
haps the stake, awaited him. The idea of a repetition 
of the dreadful scenes which he had already encount- 
ered, completely banished the indecision which had 
hitherto withheld him, and, with a sudden and start- 
ling cry, he sprung into the bushes, and fled with the 
speed of a wild deer. The pursuit was instant and 
keen ; some on foot, some on horseback. But he was 
flying for his life; the stake and the hot iron, and the 
burning splinters were before his eyes, and he soon dis- 
tanced the swiftest hunter that pursued him. 

But fate was against him at every turn. Thinking 
only of the enemy behind, he forgot that there might 
also be enemies before; and, before he was aware of 
what he had done, he found that he had plunged into 
the center of a fresh party of horsemen, who had sallied 
from the town at the firing of the guns, and happened, 
unfortunately, to stumble upon the poor prisoner, now 
making a last effort for freedom. His heart sunk at 



SIMON KENTON. 107 

once frpm the ardor of hope to the very pit of despair, 
and he was again haltered and driven before them to 
town like an ox to the slaughter-house. 

Upon reaching the village (Pickaway), he was fast- 
ened to a stake, near the door of the council-house, 
and the warriors again assembled in debate. In a short 
time they issued from the council-house, and, surround- 
ing him, they danced, yelled, etc., for several hours, giv- 
ing him once more a foretaste of the bitterness of death. 
On the following morning their journey was continued, 
but the Indians had now become watchful, and gave 
him no opportunity of even attempting an escape. On 
the second day he arrived at Waughcotomoco. Here he 
was again compelled to run the gauntlet, in which he 
was severely hurt; and, immediately after this cere- 
mony, he was taken to the council-house, and all the 
warriors once more assembled to determine his fate. 

He sat silent and dejected upon the floor of the cabin, 
awaiting the moment which was to deliver him to the 
stake, when the door of the council-house opened, and 
Simon Girty, James Girty, John Ward, and an Indian 
came in with a woman (Mrs. Mary Kennedy) as a 
prisoner, together with seven children and seven scalps. 
Kenton was instantly removed from the council-house, 
and the deliberations of the assembly were protracted 
to a very late hour, in consequence of the arrival, of 
the last-named party w T ith a fresh drove of prisoners. 

At length he was again summoned to attend the 
council-house, being informed that his fate was decided. 
Regarding the mandate as a mere prelude to the stake 
and fire, which he knew w T as intended for him, he 
obeyed it with the calm despair which had now suc- 
ceeded the burning anxiety of the last Jew days. Upon 
entering the council-house, he w 7 as greeted w T ith a sav- 
age scowl, which, if he had still cherished a spark of 
hope, w r ould have completely extinguished it. Simon 
Girty threw a blanket upon the floor, and harshly 
ordered him to take a seat upon it. The order was 
not immediately complied with, and Girty, impatiently 
seizing his arm, jerked him roughly upon the blanket, 
and pulled him down up'on it. 



108 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

In the same rough and menacing tone, Girty then 
interrogated him as to the condition of Kentucky. 
"How many men are there in Kentucky?" "It is 
impossible for me to answer that question," replied 
Kenton, "but I can tell you the number of officers, 
and their respective ranks ; you can then judge for 
yourself." "Do you know William Stewart?" "Per- 
fectly well; he is an old and intimate acquaintance." 
" What is your own name ? " " Simon Butler ! " replied 
Kenton. Never did the annunciation of a name pro- 
duce a more powerful effect. Girty and Kenton (then 
bearing the name of Butler) had served as spies, to- 
gether, in Dunmore's expedition. The former had not 
then abandoned the society of the whites for that of 
the savages, and had become warmly attached to Ken- 
ton during the short period of their services together. 
As soon as he heard the name, he became strongly 
agitated; and, springing from his seat, he threw his 
arms around Kenton's neck, and embraced him with 
much emotion. 

Then turning to the assembled warriors, who re- 
mained astonished spectators of this extraordinary 
scene, he addressed them in a short speech, which the 
deep earnestness of his tone, and the energy of his 
gesture, rendered eloquent. He informed them that 
the prisoner, whom they had just condemned to the 
stake, was his ancient comrade and bosom friend : that 
they had traveled the same war-path, slept upon the 
same blanket, and dwelt in the same wigwam. He en- 
treated them to have compassion upon his feelings ; to 
spare him the agony of witnessing the torture of an old 
friend by the hands of his adopted brothers ; and not 
to refuse so trifling a favor, as the life of a white man, 
to the earnest intercession of one who had proved, by 
three years' faithful service, that he was sincerely and 
zealously devoted to the cause of the Indians. 

The speech was listened to in unbroken silence. As 
soon as he had finished, several chiefs expressed their 
approbation by a deep guttural interjection, while 
others were equally as forward in making known their 
objections to the proposal. They urged that his fate 



SIMON KENTON. 109 

had already been determined in a large and solemn 
council, and that they would be acting like squaws to 
change their mind every hour. They insisted upon the 
flagrant misdemeanors of Kenton ; that he had not 
only stolen their horses, but had flashed his gun at one. 
of their young men ; that it was in vain to suppose 
that so bad a man could ever become an Indian at 
heart, like their brother Girty; that the Kentuckians 
were all alike, very bad people, and ought to be killed 
as fast as they were taken ; and finally, they observed, 
that many of their people had come from a distance 
solely to assist at the torture of the prisoner, and 
pathetically painted the disappointment and chagrin 
with which they would hear that all their trouble had 
been for nothing. 

Girty listened, with obvious impatience, to the young 
warriors who had so ably argued against a reprieve, 
and starting to his feet as soon as the others had con- 
cluded, he urged his former request with great earnest- 
ness. He briefly but strongly recapitulated his own 
services, and the many and weighty instances of attach- 
ment which he had given. He asked if he could be 
suspected of partiality to the whites? When had he 
ever before interceded for any of that hated race? 
Had he not brought seven scalps home with him from 
the last expedition? And had he not submitted seven 
white prisoners that very evening to their discretion ? 
Had he expressed a wish that a single one of the cap- 
tives should be saved? This was his first and should 
be his last request: for if they refused to him what 
w r as never refused to the intercession of one of their 
natural chiefs, he would look upon himself as disgraced 
in their eyes, and considered as unworthy of confidence. 
Which of their own natural warriors had been more 
zealous than himself? From what expedition had he 
ever shrunk? What white man had ever seen his 
back ? Whose tomahawk had been bloodier than his ? 
He would say no more. He asked it as a first and last 
favor — as an evidence -that they approved of his zeal 
and fidelity — that the life of his bosom friend might be 
spared. Fresh speakers arose upon each side, and the 



110 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

debate was carried on, for an hour and a half, with 
great heat and energy. 

During the whole of this time, Kenton's feelings may 
readily be imagined. He could not understand a syl- 
lable of what was said. He saw that Girty spoke with 
deep earnestness, and that the eyes of the assembly were 
often turned upon himself, with various expressions. He 
felt satisfied that his friend was pleading for his life, 
and that he was violently opposed by a large part of 
the council. At length the war-club was produced, 
and the final vote taken. Kenton watched its progress 
with thrilling emotion, which yielded to the most rap- 
turous delight as he perceived that those who struck 
the floor of the council-house were decidedly inferior 
in number to tho.-e who passed it in silence. Having 
thus succeeded in his benevolent purpose, Girty lost no 
time in attending to the comfort of his friend. He led 
him into his own wigwam, and from his own store gave 
him a pair of moccasins and leggins, a breech-cloth, a 
hat, a coat, a handkerchief for his neck, and another 
for his head. 

The whole of this remarkable scene is in the highest 
degree honorable to Girty, and is in striking contrast 
to most of his conduct after his union with the Indians. 
No man can be completely hardened, and no character 
is at all times the same. Girty had been deeply offended 
with the whites ; and knowing that his desertion to the 
Indians had been universally and severely reprobated, 
and that he himself was regarded with detestation by 
his former countrymen, he seems to have raged against 
them, from these causes, with a fury which resembled 
rather the paroxysm of a maniac than the deliberate 
cruelty of a naturally ferocious temper. Fierce censure 
never reclaims, but rather drives to still greater extrem- 
ities ; and this is the reason that reuegadoes are so 
much fiercer than natural foes — and when females fall, 
they fall irretrievably. 

For the space of three weeks, Kenton lived in perfect 
tranquillity. Girty's kindness was uniform and inde- 
fatigable. He introduced Kenton to his own family, 
and accompanied him to the wigwams of the principal 



SIMON KENTON. Ill 

chiefs, who seemed all at once to have turned from the 
extremity of rage to the utmost kindness and cordiality. 
Fortune, however, seemed to have selected him for her 
football, and to have snatched him from the frying-pan 
only to throw him into the fire. About twenty days 
after his most providential deliverance from the stake, 
he was walking in company with Girty and an Indian 
named Redpole, when another Indian came from the 
village toward them, uttering repeatedly a whoop of 
peculiar intonation. Girty instantly told Kenton that 
it was the distress halloo, and that they must all go in- 
stantly to the council-house. Kenton's heart involunta- 
rily fluttered at the intelligence, for he dreaded all 
whoops, and hated all council-houses, firmly believing 
that neither boded him any good. Nothing, however, 
could be done to avoid whatever fate awaited him, and 
he sadly accompanied Girty and Eedpole back to the 
village. 

Upon approaching the Indian who had hallooed, Girty 
and Redpole shook hands with him. Kenton likewise 
offered his hand, but the Indian refused to take it, at 
the same time scowling upon him ominously. This 
took place within a few paces of the door of the council- 
house. Upon entering, they saw that the house was 
unusually full. Many chiefs and warriors from the 
distant towns were present; and their countenances 
were grave, severe, and forbidding. Girty, Eedpole, 
and Kenton, w T alked around, offering their hands suc- 
cessively to each warrior. The hands of the two first 
were cordially received ; but when poor Kenton anx- 
iously offered his hand to the first warrior, it was 
rejected with the same scowling eye as before. He 
passed on to the second, but was still rejected; he per- 
severed, however, until his hand had been refused by 
the first six ; when, sinking into despondence, he turned 
off and stood apart from the rest. 

The debate quickly commenced. Kenton looked 
eagerly toward Girty, as his last and only hope. His 
friend looked anxious and distressed. The chiefs from 
a distance arose one after another, and spoke in a firm 
and indignant tone, often looking at Kenton with an 



112 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

eye of death. Girty did not desert him, but his elo- 
quence appeared wasted upon the distant chiefs. After 
a warm debate, he turned to Kenton and said, " Well, 
my friend, you mud die ! " One of the stranger chiefs 
instantly seized him by the collar, and the others sur- 
rounding him, he was strongly pinioned, committed to 
a guard, and instantly marched off. 

His guard were on horseback, while the prisoner was 
driven before them on foot, with a long rope round his 
neck, the other end of which was held by one of the 
guard. In this manner they had marched about two 
and a half miles, when Girty passed them on horseback, 
informing Kenton that he had friends at the next 
village, with whose aid he hoped to be able to do 
something for him. Girty passed on to the town, but 
finding that nothing could be done, he would not see 
his friend again, but returned to Waughcotomoco by 
a different route. 

They passed through the village without halting, and, 
at the distance of two and a half miles beyond it, Ken- 
ton had again an opportunity of witnessing the fierce 
hate with which these children of nature regard an ene- 
my. At the distance of a few paces from the road a 
squaw was busily engaged in chopping wood, while her 
lord and master was sitting on a log, smoking his pipe 
and directing her labors with the indolent indifference 
common to the natives when not under the influence of 
some exciting passion. The sight of Kenton, however, 
roused him to fury. He hastily sprang up, with a sud- 
den yell, snatched the ax from the squaw, and, rushing 
upon the prisoner so rapidly as to give him no oppor- 
tunity of escape, dealt him a blow with the ax which 
cut through his shoulder, breaking the bone and almost 
severing the arm from his body. He would instantly 
have repeated the blow, had not Kenton's conductors 
interfered and protected him, severely reprimanding the 
Indian for attempting to rob them of the amusement of 
torturing the prisoner at . 

They soon reached a large village upon the head-wa- 
ters of Scioto, where Kenton, for the first time, beheld 
the celebrated Mingo chief, Logan, so honorably men- 



SIMON KENTON. 113 

tioned in Mr. Jefferson's "Notes on Virginia." Logan 
walked gravely up to the place where Kenton stood, and 
the following short conversation ensued : "Well, young 
man, these young men seem very mad at you!" "Yes, 
sir, they certainly are." "Well, don't be disheartened, 
I am a great chief. You are to go to Sandusky ; they 
speak of burning you there, but I will send two runners 
to-morrow to speak good for you." Logan's form was 
striking and manly, his countenance calm and noble, 
and he spoke the English language with fluency and 
correctness. Kenton's spirits instantly rose at the 
address of the benevolent chief, and he once more 
looked upon himself as providentially rescued from the 
stake. 

On the following morning two runners were de- 
spatched to Sandusky, as the chief had promised, and 
until their return Kenton was kindly treated, being per- 
mitted to spend much of his time with Logan, who con- 
versed with him freely and in the most friendly manner. 
In the evening the two runners returned, and were 
closeted with Logan. Kenton felt the most burning 
anxiety to know what was the result of their mission, 
but Logan did not visit him again until the next morn- 
ing. He then walked up to him, accompanied by 
Kenton's guards, and, giving hiru a piece of bread, told 
him that he was instantly to be carried to Sandusky; 
and, without uttering another word, turned upon his 
heel and left him. 

Again Kenton's spirits sank. From Logan's manner 
he supposed that his intercession had been unavailing, 
and that Sandusky was destined to be the scene of his 
final suffering. This appears to have been the truth. 
But fortune, who, to use Lord Lovat's expression, had 
been playing at cat and mouse with him for the last 
month, had selected Sandusky for the display of her 
strange and capricious power. He was driven into the 
town as usual, and was to have been burnt on the fol- 
lowing morning, when an Indian a^ent, named Drewyer, 
interposed, and once more rescued him from the stake. 
He was anxious to obtain intelligence for the British 
commandant at Detroit, and so earnestly insisted upon 



114 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

Kenton's being delivered up to him, that the Indians 
at length consented, upon the express condition that, 
after the required information had been obtained, he 
should again be placed at their discretion. To this 
Drewyer consented, and without further difficulty Ken- 
ton was transferred to his hands. Drewyer lost no time 
in removing him to Detroit. 

On the road he informed Kenton of the condition 
upon which he had obtained possession of his person, 
assuring him, however, that no consideration should in- 
duce him to abandon a prisoner to the mercy of such 
wretches. Having dwelt at some length upon the gen- 
erosity of his own disposition, and having sufficiently 
magnified the service which he had just rendered him, 
he began, at length, to cross-question Kenton as to the 
force and condition of Kentucky, and particularly as to 
the number of men at Fort Mcintosh. Kenton very 
candidly declared his inability to answer either question, 
observing that he was merely a private, and by no 
means acquainted with matters of an enlarged and gen- 
eral import; that his great business had heretofore been 
to endeavor to take care of himself, which he had found 
a work of no small difficulty. Drewyer replied that he 
believed him, and from that time Kenton was troubled 
with no more questions. 

His condition at Detroit was not unpleasant. He was 
compalled to report himself every morning to an Eng- 
lish officer, and was restricted to certain boundaries 
through the day, but in other respects he scarcely felt 
that he was a prisoner. His battered body and broken 
arm were quickly repaired, and his emaciated limbs 
were again clothed with a proper proportion of flesh. 
He remained in this state of easy restraint from October, 
1777, until June, 1778, when he meditated an escape. 
There was no difficulty in leaving Detroit, but he would 
be compelled to traverse a wilderness of more than two 
hundred miles, abounding with hostile Indians, and af- 
fording no means of subsistence beyond the wild game, 
which could not be killed without a gun. In addition 
to this, he would certainly be pursued, and, if retaken 
by the Indians, he might expect a repetition of all that 



SIMON KENTON. 115 

he had undergone before, without the prospect of a sec- 
ond interposition on the part of the English. 

These considerations deterred him for some time from 
the attempt, but at length his impatience became uncon- 
trollable, and he determined to escape, or perish in the 
attempt. He took his measures with equal secrecy and 
foresight. He cautiously sounded two young Kentucki- 
ans then at Detroit, who had been taken with Boone at 
the Blue Licks, and had been purchased by the British. 
He found them as impatient as himself of captivity, and 
resolute to accompany him. Charging them not to 
breathe a syllable of their design to any other prisoners, 
he busied himself for several days in making the neces- 
sary preparations. It was absolutely necessary that 
they should be provided with arms, both for the sake of 
repelling attack and procuring the means of subsist- 
ence; and, at the same time, it was very difficult to ob- 
tain them without the knowledge of the British com- 
mandant. 

By patiently waiting their opportunity, however, all 
these preliminary difficulties were overcome. Kenton 
formed a close friendship with two Indian hunters, del- 
uged them with rum, and bought their guns for a mere 
trifle. After carefully hiding them in the woods, he re- 
turned to Detroit, and managed to procure another rifle, 
together with powder and balls, from a Mr. and Mrs. 
Edgar, citizens of the town. They then appointed a 
night for the attempt, and agreed upon a place of ren- 
dezvous. All things turned out prosperously. They 
met at the time and place appointed without discov- 
ery, and, taking a circuitous route, avoided pursuit; 
and, traveling only during the night, they at length 
arrived safely at Louisville, after a march of thirty 
days. 

Thus terminated one of the most remarkable adven- 
tures in the whole range of Western history. A fatalist 
would recognize the hand of destiny in every stage of 
its progress. In the infatuation with which Kenton re- 
fused to adopt proper measures for his safety while such 
were practicable ; in the persevering obstinacy with 
which he remained upon the Ohio shore until flight be- 



116 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

came useless; and afterward, in that remarkable suc- 
cession of accidents by which, without the least exer- 
tion on his part, he was alternately tantalized with a 
prospect of safety, and then plunged again into the 
deepest despair. He was eight times exposed to the 
gauntlet, three times tied to the stake, and as often 
thought himself upon the eve of a terrible death. 

All the sentences passed upon him, whether of mercy 
or condemnation, seemed to have been only pronounced 
in one council in order to be reversed in another. Every 
friend that Providence raised up in his favor was imme- 
diately followed by some enemy, who unexpectedly in- 
terposed, and turned his short glimpse of sunshine into 
deeper darkness than ever, For three weeks he was 
seesawing between life and death, and during the whole 
time he was perfectly passive. No wisdom, or fore- 
sight, or exertion, could have saved him. Fortune 
fought his battle from first to last, and seemed deter- 
mined to permit nothing else to interfere. Scarcely 
had he reached Kentucky, when he embarked in a new 
enterprise. 

Colonel George Kogers Clark had projected an expe- 
dition against the hostile posts of Vincennes and Kas- 
kaskia, and invited all Kentuckians, who had leisure 
and inclination, to join him. Kenton instantly repaired 
to his standard, and shared in the hardship and glory 
of one of the boldest, most arduous, and successful ex- 
peditions which have ever graced the American arms. 
The results of the campaign are well known. Secrecy 
and celerity were eminently combined in it, and Clark 
shared with the common soldier in encountering every 
fatigue and braving every danger. Kenton, as usual, 
acted as a spy, and was eminently serviceable; but no 
incident occurred of sufficient importance to obtain a 
place in these sketches. 

From that time until the close of the Indian war in 
the West, Kenton was actively employed, generally in a 
frontier station, and occasionally in serious expeditions. 
He accompanied Edwards in his abortive expedition 
against the Indian towns in 1785, and shared in Wayne's 
decisive campaign of 1794. 



SIMON KENTON. 117 

McDonald, in his extended sketch of Kenton, informs 
us that he settled, about the year 1802, in Urbana, 
Champaign County, Ohio, remaining there for some 
years; was elected a brigadier-general of the militia, 
and in 1810 became a member of the Methodist Church. 
In 1813, when Governor Shelby reached that place, at 
the head of the Kentucky troops, Kenton joined the 
army as a private (but a privileged member of the 
governor's military family), and was present at the 
glorious battle of the Moravian Town, where ended 
his military career. About 1820, he moved to the head 
of Mad River, in Logan County, Ohio, near to the site 
of Old Wapatomika (now Zanesville), where he died, 
in April, 1836, being nearly eighty-one years old. 

"General Kenton w T as of fair complexion, six feet 
one inch in height. He stood and w 7 alked very erect ; 
and, in the prime of life, weighed about one hundred 
and ninety. He was never inclined to be corpulent, al- 
though of sufficient size to form a graceful person. He 
had a soft, tremulous voice, very pleasing to the hearer, 
and laughing, gray eyes, which appeared to fascinate 
the beholder. He wa< a pleasant, good-humored, and 
obliging companion. When excited or provoked to 
anger (which was seldom the case) the fiery glance of 
his eye would almost curdle the blood of those with 
whom he came in contact. In his dealings, he was per- 
fectly honest; his confidence in man, and his credulity 
w r ere such, that the same man might cheat him twenty 
times, and, if he professed friendship, he might cheat 
him still." 

Such was Simon Kenton, to whose memory be it said, 
that, "if a long life of hardy adventures — with a cour- 
age that never quailed at danger, and patriotism that 
never ceased its exertion in his country's cause — de- 
serves the title of illustrious, then stands the name of 
General Kenton in the first rank of worthies." 



118 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 



CHAPTER IV. 

AMONG the earliest and most respectable of the emi- 
grants to Kentucky, was General Benjamin Logan. 
His father was an Irishman, who had left his own coun- 
try early in the eighteenth century, and settled in Penn- 
sylvania, from which he subsequently removed to Au- 
gusta County, Virginia. Here he shortly afterward died. 
Young Logan, as the eldest son, was entitled, by the 
laws of Virginia, to the whole of the landed property, 
(his father having died intestate). He refused, how- 
ever, to avail himself of this circumstance, and, as the 
farm upon which the family resided was too small to 
admit of a division, he caused it to be sold, and the 
money to be distributed among his brothers and sisters, 
reserving a portion for his mother. At the age of tw T en- 
ty-one, he removed from Augusta County to the banks 
of the Holston, where, shortly afterward, he purchased 
a farm and married. 

In 1774 he accompanied Dunmore in his expedition, 
probably as a private. In 1775, he removed to Ken- 
tucky, and soon became particularly distinguished. His 
person was striking and manly, his hair and complexion 
very dark, his eye keen and penetrating, his counte- 
nance grave, thoughtful, and expressive of a firmness, 
probity, and intelligence, which were eminently dis- 
played throughout his life. His education was very 
imperfect, and confined, we believe, simply, to the arts 
of reading and writing. Having remained in Ken- 
tucky, in a very exposed situation, until the spring of 
1776, he returned for his family, and brought them out 
to a small settlement, called Logan's Fort, not far from 
Harrodsburgh. The Indians during this summer w r ere 
so numerous and daring in their excursions, that 



BENJAMIN LOGAN. 119 

Logan was compelled to remove his wife and family 
for safety to Harrodsburgh, while he himself remained 
at his cabins and cultivated a crop of corn. 

In the spring of 1777, his wife returned to Logan's 
Fort ; and several settlers having joined him, he deter- 
mined to maintain himself there at all risk. His cour- 
age was soon put to the test. On the morning of the 
twentieth of May, a few days after his wife had rejoined 
him, the women were milking the cows at the gate of 
the little fort, and some of the garrison attending them, 
when a party of Indians appeared and fired upon them. 
One man was shot dead, and two more wounded, one 
of them mortally. The whole party, including one of 
the wounded men, instantly ran into the fort and closed 
the gate. The enemy quickly showed themselves upon 
the edge of a canebrake, within close rifle-shot of the 
gate, and seemed numerous and determined. Having 
a moment's leisure to look around, they beheld a spec- 
tacle which awakened the most lively interest and com- 
passion. 

A man named Harrison had been severely wounded, 
and still lay near the spot where he had fallen, within 
full view both of the garrison and the enemy. The 
poor fellow 7 was, at intervals, endeavoring to crawl in 
the direction of the fort, and had succeeded in reach- 
ing a cluster of bushes, which, however, were too thin 
to shelter his person from the enemy. His wife and 
family were in the fort, and in deep distress at his situ- 
ation. The enemy undoubtedly forebore to fire upon 
him, from the supposition that some of the garrison 
would attempt to save him, in which case they held 
themselves in readiness to fire upon them from the cane- 
brake. The case was a very trying one. It seemed 
impossible to save him without sacrificing the lives of 
several of the garrison, and their numbers already were 
far too few for an effectual defense, having originally 
amounted only to fifteen men, three of whom had al- 
ready been put hors de combat. 

Yet the spectacle was so moving, and the lamenta- 
tion of his family so distressing, that it seemed equally 
impossible not to make an effort to relieve him. 
12 



120 WESTERN ADVENTURE, 

Logan endeavored to persuade some of his men to ac- 
company him in a sally, but so evident and appalling 
was the danger, that all at first refused; one Herculean 
fellow observing that he was a "weakly man," and an- 
other declaring that he was sorry for Harrison, " but 
that the skin was closer than the shirt." At length. 
John Martin collected his courage, and declared his 
willingness to accompany Logan, saying, that "he could 
only die once, and that he was as ready now as he ever 
would be." The two men opened the gate and started 
upon their forlorn expedition, Logan leading the way. 

They had not advanced five steps, when Harrison, 
perceiving them, made a vigorous effort to rise, upon 
which Martin, supposing him able to help himself, im- 
mediately sprung back within the gate. Harrison's 
strength almost instantly failed, and he fell at full 
length upon the grass. Logan paused a momeut after 
the desertion of Martin, then suddenly sprung forward 
to the spot where Harrison lay, rushing through a tre- 
mendous shower of rifle-balls which was poured upon 
him from every spot around the fort capable of cover- 
ing an Indian. Seizing the wounded man in his arms, 
he ran with him to the fort, through the same heavy 
fire, and entered it unhurt, although the gate and pick- 
eting near him were riddled with balls, and his hat and 
clothes pierced in several places. 

The fort was now vigorously assailed in the Indian 
manner, and as vigorously defended by the garrison. 
The women were all employed in molding bullets, 
while the men were constantly at their posts. The 
weakness of the garrison was not their only grievance. 
A distressing scarcity of ammunition prevailed, and no 
supply could be procured nearer than Holston. But 
how was it to be obtained? The fort was closely block- 
aded, the Indians were swarming in the woods, and 
chances were sadly against the probability of the safe 
passage of any courier through so many dangers ! Un- 
der these circumstances, Logan determined to take the 
dangerous office upon himself. After encouraging the 
men as well as he could, with the prospect of a safe and 
speedy return, he took advantage of a dark night, and 



BEXJAMIN LOGAN. 121 

crawled through the Indian encampment without dis- 
covery. 

Shunning the ordinary route through Cumberland 
Gap, he arrived at Holston by by-paths which no white 
man had yet trodden ; through canebrakes and thick- 
ets ; over tremendous cliffs and precipices, where the 
deer could scarcely obtain footing, and where no ves- 
tige of any of the human family could be seen. Hav- 
ing obtained a supply of powder and lead, he returned 
through the same almost inaccessible paths to the fort, 
which he found still besieged, and now reduced to ex- 
tremity. The safe return of their leader inspired them 
with fresh courage, and in a few days the appearance 
of Colonel Bowman's party compelled the Indians to 
retire. 

During the whole of this and the next year, the In- 
dians were exceedingly troublesome. The Shawnees 
particularly distinguished themselves by the frequency 
and inveterate nature of their incursions ; and as their 
capital, Chillicothe, was within striking distance, an ex- 
pedition was bet on foot against it in 1779, in which 
Logan served as second in command. Captain James 
Harrod and John Bulger accompanied the expedition ; 
the former of whom, shortly afterward, perished in a 
lonely ramble ; and the latter was killed at the Blue 
Licks. Colonel Bowman commanded in chief. The 
detachment amounted to one hundred and sixty men ; 
consisted entirely of volunteers, accustomed to Indian 
warfare, and was well officered, but not so fortunate in 
its commander. 

They left Harrodsburg in July, and took their pre- 
liminary measures so well, that they arrived within a 
mile of Chillicothe, without giving the slightest alarm 
to the enemy. Here the detachment halted at an early 
hour in the night, and, as usual, sent out spies to ex- 
amine the condition of the village. Before midnight 
they returned, and reported that the enemy remained 
unapprised of their being in the neighborhood, and 
w r ere in the most unmilitary security. The army was 
instantly put in motion. It was determined that Lo- 
gan, with one-half of the men, should turn to the left 



122 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

and march half way around the town, while Bowman, 
at the he id of the remainder, should make a corre- 
sponding march to the right; that both parties should 
proceed in silence, until they had met at the opposite 
extremity of the village, when, having thus completely 
encircled it, the attack was to commence. 

Logan, who was bravery himself, performed his part 
of the combined operation, with perfect order, and in 
profound silence ; and having reached the designated 
spot, awaited with impatience the arrival of his com- 
mander. Hour after hour stole away, but Bowman did 
not appear. At length daylight appeared. Logan, still 
expecting the arrival of his colonel, ordered the men to 
conceal themselves in the high grass, and await the ex- 
pected signal to attack. No orders, however, arrived. 
In the meantime, the men, in shifting about through the 
grass, alarmed an Indian dog, the only sentinel on duty. 
He instantly began to bay loudly, and advanced in the 
direction of the man who had attracted his attention. 
Presently a solitary Indian left his cabin, and walked 
cautiously toward the party, halting frequently, rising 
upon tiptoes, and gazing around him. 

Logan's party lay close, with the hope of taking him 
without giving the alarm ; but at that instant a gun was 
fired in an opposite quarter of the town, as was after- 
ward ascertained, by one of Bowman's party, and the 
Indian, giving one shrill whoop, ran swiftly back to the 
council-house. Concealment was now impossible. Lo- 
gan's party instantly sprung up from the grass, and 
rushed upon the village, not doubting for a moment 
that they would be gallantly supported. As they ad- 
vanced, they perceived Indians of all ages and of both 
sexes, running to the great cabin, near the center of the 
town, where they collected in full force and appeared de- 
termined upon an obstinate defense. Logan instantly 
took possession of the houses which had been deserted, 
and rapidly advancing from cabin to cabin, at length 
established his detachment within close rifle shot of the 
Indian redoubt. 

He now listened impatiently for the firing which 
should have been heard from the opposite extremity of 



BENJAMIN LOGAN. 123 

the town, where he supposed Bowman's party to be, but 
to his astonishment, every thing remained quiet in that 
quarter. In the meantime his own position had become 
critical. The Indians had recovered from their panic, 
and kept up a close and heavy fire upon the cabins 
which covered his men. He had pushed his detach- 
ment so close to the redoubt, that they could neither 
advance nor retreat without great exposure. The ene- 
my outnumbered him, and gave indications of a dispo- 
sition to turn both flanks of his position and thus en- 
danger his retreat. 

Under these circumstances, ignorant of the condition 
of his commander, and cut off from communication with 
him, he formed the bold and judicious resolution, to 
make a movable breastwork of the planks which formed 
the floor of the cabins, and under cover of it, to rush 
upon the stronghold of the enemy and carry it by main 
force. Had this gallant determination been carried into 
effect, and had the movement been promptly seconded, 
as it ought to have been by Bowman, the conflict would 
have been bloody, and the victory decisive. Most prob- 
ably not an Indian would have escaped, and the conster- 
nation which such signal vengeance would have spread 
throughout the Indian tribes, might have repressed their 
incursions for a considerable time. But before the nec- 
essary steps could be taken, a messenger arrived from 
Bowman, with orders "to retreat!" 

Astonished at such an order, at a time when honor 
and safety required an offensive movement on their 
part, Logan hastily asked if Bowman had been over- 
powered by the enemy? No! Had he ever beheld 
an enemy? No! What, then, was the cause of this 
extraordinary abandonment of a design so prosper- 
ously begun ? He did not know : the colonel had 
ordered a retreat! Logan, however reluctantly, was 
compelled to obey. A retreat is always a dispiriting 
movement, and, with militia, is almost certain to ter- 
minate in a complete rout. As soon as the men were 
informed of the order, a most irregular and tumul- 
tuous scene commenced. Not being buoyed up by the 
mutual confidence which is the offspring of discipline, 



124 WESTER N ADVENTURE. 

and which sustains regular soldiers under all circum- 
stances, they no longer acted in concert. 

Each man selected the time, manner, and route of 
his retreat for himself. Here a solitary Kentuckian 
would start up from behind a stump, and scud away 
through the grass, dodging and turning to avoid the 
balls which whistled around him. There a dozen men 
would run from a cabin, aud scatter in every direction, 
each anxious to save himself, and none having leisure 
to attend to their neighbors. The Indians, astonished 
at seeing men rout themselves in this manner, sallied 
out of their redoubts and pursued the stragglers, as 
sportsmen would cut up a scattered flock of wild geese. 
They soon united themselves to Bowman's party, who 
from some unaccountable panic of their commander, 
or fault in themselves, had stood stock still near the 
spot where Logan had left them the night before. 

All was confusion. Some cursed their colonel ; 
some reproached other officers; one shouted one thing, 
one bellowed another; but all seemed to agree that 
they ought to make the best of their way home, with- 
out the loss of a moment's time. By great exertions 
on the part of Login, well seconded by Harrod, Bul- 
ger, and the late Maj. G. M. Bedinger, of the Blue 
Licks, some degre3 of order was restored, and a 
tolerably respectable retreat commenced. The Indians, 
however, soon surrounded them on all sides, and kept 
up a hot fire, which began to grow fatal. Colonel 
Bowman appeared quite bewildered, and sat upon his 
horse like a pillar of stone, neither giving an order, 
nor taking any measures to repel the enemy. The 
sound of the rifle-shots had, however, completely re- 
stored the men to their senses, and they readily formed 
in a large hollow square, took trees, and returned the 
fire with equal vivacity. The enemy was quickly re- 
pelled, and the troops recommenced their march. 

But scarcely had they advanced half a mile, when 
the Indians re-appeared, and again opened a fire upon 
the front, rear, and both flanks. Again a square was 
formed, and the enemy repelled ; but scarcely had the 
harassed troops recommenced their march, when the 



BENJAMIN LOO AN. 125 

same galling fire was opened upon them from every 
tree, bush, and stone capable of concealing an Indian. 
Matters now began to look serious. The enemy were 
evidently endeavoring to detain them, until fresh 
Indians could come up in sufficient force to compel 
them to lay down their arms. The men began to be 
unsteady, and the panic was rapidly spreading from 
the colonel to the privates. At this crisis, Logan, 
Harrod, Bedinger, etc., selected the boldest and best- 
mounted men, and dashing into the bushes on horse- 
back, scoured the woods in every direction, forcing the 
Indians from their coverts, and cutting down as many 
as they could overtake. 

This decisive step completely dispersed the enemy, 
and the weary and dispirited troops continued their 
retreat unmolested."*' They lost nine killed and a few 
others wounded. But the loss of reputation on the 
part of the colonel was incalculable, for, as usual, he 
was the scapegoat upon whose head the disgrace of the 
miscarriage was laid. No good reason has ever been 
assigned for the extraordinary failure of his own de- 
tachment ; and the subsequent panic which he displayed 
when harassed in the wood, affords room for suspicion 
that either the darkness of the night, or the cry of an 
owl (for he did not see the face of an enemy), had 
robbed the colonel of his usual presence of mind. 

It may be here remarked, that the propriety of com- 
bined operations with irregular troops, is at least 
doubtful. Different corps, moving by different routes 
upon the same point, are liable to miscarriage from so 
many causes, that the measure is scarcely ever attended 
with success, unless when the troops are good, the 
officers intelligent and unanimous, and the ground per- 
fectly understood. The intervention of a creek, the 
ignorance of a guide, or the panic of an officer, as in 
the case of Bowman, may destroy the unity of the 
operation, and expose the detachment which has 
reached its station in proper time to be cut off. 

The signal failure of Washington at Germ an town, 
may, in a great measure, be attributed to the com- 
plicated plan of attack, as the several divisions arrived 



126 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

at different times, attacked without concert, and were 
beaten in detail. I can scarcely recollect a siugle in- 
stance, save the affair of Trenton, in which raw troops 
have succeeded by combined operations, and many mis- 
carriages in our own annals may be attributed to that 
circumstance. Logan returned to Kentucky with a 
reputation increased, rather than diminished, by the 
failure of the expedition. His conduct was placed in 
glaring contrast to that of his unfortunate commander, 
and the praise of the one was in exact correspondence 
to the censure of the other. 

No other affair of consequence occurred until the 
rash and disastrous battle of the Blue Licks, in which, 
as we have seen, Logan was unable to share. He 
seems to have remained quielly engaged in agricultural 
pursuits until the summer of 1788, when he conducted 
an expedition against the north-western tribes, which, 
as usual, terminated in burning their villages, and 
cutting up their corn-fields ; serving to irritate, but not 
to subdue the enemy. A single incident attending this 
expedition, deserves to be commemorated. Upon 
approaching a large village of the Shawnees, from 
which, as usual, most of the inhabitants had fled, an 
old chief, named Moluntha, came out to meet them, 
fantastically dressed in an old cocked hat, set jauntily 
upon one side of his head, and a fine shawl thrown 
over his shoulders. He carried an enormous pipe in 
one hand, and a tobacco pouch in the other, and 
strutted out with the air of an old French beau to 
smoke the pipe of peace with his enemies, whom he 
found himself unable to meet in the field. 

Nothing could be more striking than the fearless con- 
fidence with which he walked through the foremost 
ranks of the Kentuckians, evidently highly pleased 
with his own appearance, and enjoying the admiration 
which he doubted not that his cocked hat and splendid 
shawl inspired. Many of the Kentuckians were highly 
amused at the mixture of dandyism and gallantry 
which the poor old man exhibited, and shook hands 
with him very cordially. Unfortunately, however, he 
at length approached Major McGary, whose temper, 



BENJAMIN LOGAN. 127 

never particularly sweet, was as much inflamed by the 
sight of an Indian, as that of a wild bull by the 
waving of a red flag. It happened, unfortunately, too, 
that Moluntha had been one of the chiefs who comman- 
ded at the Blue Licks, a disaster which McGary had not 
yet forgotten. 

Instead of giving his hand as the others had done, 
McGary scowled upon the old man, and asked him if 
"he recollected the Blue Licks?" Moluntha smiled, 
and merely repeated the word " Blue Licks ! " when 
McGary instantly drew his tomahawk, and cleft him 
to the brain. The old man received the blow without 
flinching for a second, and fell dead at the feet of his 
destroyer. Great excitement instantly prevailed in the 
army. Some called it a ruthless murder ; and others 
swore that he had done right ; that an Indian was not 
to be regarded as a human being, but ought to be shot 
down as a wolf whenever and wherever he appeared. 
McGary himself raved like a madman at the reproach 
of his countrymen, and declared, with many bitter 
oaths, that he would not only kill every Indian whom 
he met, whether in peace or war, at church or market, 
but that he would equally as readily tomahawk the 
man who blamed him for the act. 

Nothing else, worthy of being mentioned, occurred 
during the expedition, and Logan, upon his return, 
devoted himself exclusively to the civil affairs of the 
country, which about his time began to assume an im- 
portant aspect. 

The reader who is desirous of understanding the 
gradations by which, from a simple society of woods- 
men, Kentucky became transformed into a boiling 
vortex of political fury, intrigue, and dissension, will 
do well to consult Mr. Marshall's history, which, 
although possessing some peculiarities of opinion, and 
occasional eccentricities of style, will be found to con- 
tain a strong, clear, and sagacious view of the political 
events which succeeded the peace of 1783. 



13 



128 WESTERN ADVENTURE, 



CHAPTER V. 

DURING the whole of the Revolutionary war, the 
Indians had bean extremely troublesome to the 
back counties of Pennsylvania and Virginia, particu- 
larly to those of Washington, Youghiogheny, and 
Westmoreland. In the early part of the year 1782, 
however, these irregular excursions became so galling 
that an expedition was concerted against the Wyandott 
village, lying upon the waters of the Sandusky. Great 
exertious were made to procure volunteers. Every 
man who should equip himself with a horse and rifle, 
was to be exempted from two tours of militia duty; 
and any loss, either of arms or horses, was to be re- 
paired out of the plunder of the Indian towns. The 
volunteers were to rendezvous on the twentieth of May, 
at an old Mingo village, on the western shore of the 
Ohio, about forty miles above Fort Pitt, and the un- 
fortunate Colonel William Crawford was unani- 
mously selected as the leader of the expedition. 

On the appointed day, four hundred and fifty 
mounted volunteers assembled at the Mingo village, 
and impatiently awaited the arrival of their colonel. 
Crawford instantly accepted the appointment, which 
had been so unanimously pressed upon him, and a few 
days before the day of rendezvous, passed through 
Pittsburgh, on his way to the appointed place. He 
there prevailed upon Dr. Knight to accompany the 
detachment as surgeon, and having provided such med- 
ical stores as were likely to be useful on the expedition, 
he lost no time in putting himself at the head of the 
troops. 

On Saturday, the twenty-fifth of May, the little 
army commenced its march, striking at once into a 



WILLIAM CRAWFORD. 129 

pathless wilderness, and directing their course due 
west. On the fourth day, they halted at the ruins of 
the old Moravian town, about sixty miles from the 
Ohio, where a few of the volunteers gave a sample of 
the discipline which was to be expected from the party, 
by abandoning the detachment and returning home. 
The main body, however, still seemed eager to prose- 
cute the expedition, and the march was continued with 
unabated spirit. On the morning of the thirtieth, 
Mijor Brunton and Captain Bean, being a few hun- 
dred yards in advance of the troops, observed two In- 
dians skulking through the woods, apparently observ- 
ing the motions of the detachment. They instantly 
fired upon them, but without success. Secrecy now 
being out of the question, it only remained to press 
forward with all practicable dispatch, and afford the 
enemy as little time for preparation as possible. As 
the wilderness began to deepen around them, and the 
critical moment approached in which their courage 
would be tried, it became evident that the ardor of the 
men was considerably cooled. 

On the eleventh day of their march, they reached 
the spot where the town of Sandusky had formerly 
stood, but from which the Indians had lately removed 
to a spot about eighteen miles below. Here the de- 
tachment halted, and here the insubordinate spirit of 
the army first displayed itself. They insisted upon re- 
turning home, alleging the tired condition of their 
horses, and the fact, that their provisions were likely 
soon to be exhausted. The officers, yielding to the 
wishes of their constituents (for the troops had elected 
their own officers), determined, in council, that they 
would continue their march for one day longer, and, if 
no Indians appeared, they would then return home! 
What other results than these which we are now about 
to record could have been anticipated from such officers 
and such men ? 

Just as the council broke up, a single light-horseman 
belonging to the advanced guard rode in at a gallop, 
announcing that a large body of Indians were formed 
in an open wood, a few miles in advance, and seemed 



130 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

determined to arrest the farther progress of the invad- 
ers. Instant preparations were made for battle. The 
troops, notwithstanding their previous murmurs, ad- 
vanced with alacrity, and soon came up with the light- 
horsemen, who were slowly retiring within view of the 
enemy. The country was generally open, and well 
adapted to the operations of cavalry. Here and there 
a thin copse of woodland appeared, generally free from 
undergrowth, and giving to each party a full view of 
their enemy's movements. The Indians had partially 
obtained possession of one of these copses, although, 
their full force had not yet come up. 

The importance of seizing the wood was instantly 
seen, and Crawford hastily ordered his men to dis- 
mount, tie their horses, and force the enemy from 
their position before their reinforcements could arrive. 
Th's judicious order was promptly and effectually 
obeyed. Both flanks of the Indian position were im- 
mediately turned, and a rapid and threatening move- 
ment upon their front quickly compelled them to give 
way. Crawford now took possession of the wood, but 
scarcely had he done so, when the main body of the 
enemy hurried up to the assistance of their van, and- 
outflauking Crawford in turn, opened a heavy and 
galling fire upon his men, from which they found it 
very difficult to obtain proper shelter. 

The action now became sharp and serious; Crawford 
maintaining his ground, and the enemy (who were 
hourly increasing in number) making the most stren- 
uous efforts to regain the wood. From four in the 
evening until dusk, the firing was very heavy, and 
the loss considerable. During the whole of this time, 
scarcely an Indian was visible, unless for a moment, 
when shifting his position. Their number could only 
be ascertained from the many wreaths of smoke, which 
arose from every bush, tree, or tuft of grass within 
view. At night the enemy drew off, and Crawford's 
party slept upon their arms on the field of battle. 

On the next day the attack was renewed, but at a 
more respectful distance. The Indians had apparently 
sustained some loss on the close firing of the preceding 



WILLIAM CRA WFORD. 131 

evening, and seemed now determined to await the ar- 
rival of additional reinforcements. Occasional shots 
were fired through the day on both sides, but without 
much injury to either. As soon as it was dark, the 
field officers assembled in council; and, as the numbers 
of the enemy were evidently increasing every moment, 
it was unanimously determined to retreat by night, as 
rapidly as was consistent with order, and the preser- 
vation of the wounded. The resolution was quickly 
announced to the troops, and the necessary dispositions 
made for carrying it into effect. The outposts were 
silently withdrawn from the vicinity of the enemy, and 
as fast as they came in, the troops were formed in three 
parallel lines, with the wounded borne upon biers, in 
the center. By nine o'clock at night, all necessary ar- 
rangements had been made, and the retreat began in 
good order. 

Unfortunately, they had scarcely moved a hundred 
paces, when the report of several rifles were heard in 
the rear, in the direction of the Indian encampment. 
The troops soon became very unsteady At length, a 
solitary voice, in the front rank, called out that their 
design was discovered, and that the Indians would soon 
be upon them. Noihing more was necessary. The 
cavalry were instantly broken ; and, as usual, each man 
endeavored to save himself as he best could. A } ro- 
digious uproar ensued, which quickly communicated to 
the enemy, that the white men had routed themselves, 
and that they had nothing to do but pick up stragglers. 
The miserable wounded, notwithstanding the piercing 
cries with which they supplicated to be taken with 
them, were abandoned to the mercy of the enemy, and 
soon put out of pain. 

Dr. Knight, the surgeon of the detachment, was in 
the rear when the flight commenced, but seeing the 
necessity of dispatch, he put spurs to his horse and 
galloped through the wood as fast as the darkness 
of the night would permit. He had not advanced 
more than three hundred yards, when he heard the 
voice of Colonel Crawford, a short distance in front, 
calling aloud for his son John Crawford, his son-in-law 



132 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

Major Harrison, and his two nephews, Major Hose and 
William Crawford. Dr. Knight replied, in the same 
loud tone, that he believed the young men were in 
front. "Is that } r ou, doctor? " asked Crawford, ea- 
gerly ; for no features could be recognized in the dark- 
ness. " Yes, colonel ! I am the hindmost man, I be- 
lieve!" "No, no!" replied Crawford, anxiously, 
" my son is in the rear yet : I have not been able to 
hear of him in front! Do not leave me, doctor, my 
horse has almost given out; I can not keep up with 
the troops, and wish a few of my best friends to stay 
with me." 

Knight assured him that he might rely upon his sup- 
port in any extremity, and drew up his horse by his 
side. Colonel Crawford still remained upon the same 
spot, calling loudly for his son, until the last straggler 
had passed. He then, in strong language, reprobated 
the conduct of the militia in breaking their ranks and 
abandoning the wounded, but quickly returned to the 
subject of his son, and appeared deeply agitated at the 
uncertainty of his fate. Perceiving, however, that 
further delay must terminate in death or captivity, the 
party set spurs to their horses and followed the route 
of the troops. Presently an old man and a lad joined 
them. Crawford eagerly asked if they had seen his son 
or nephews? They assured him that they had not, 
upon which he sighed deeply, but made no reply. 

At this instant a heavy fire was heard at the distance 
of a mile in front, accompanied by yells, screams, and 
all the usual attendants of battle. Not a doubt was 
entertained that the Indians had intercepted the retreat 
of the main body, and were now engaged with them. 
Having lost all confidence in his men, Crawford did 
not choose to unite his fortune to theirs, and changed 
his course to the northward, in such a manner as to 
leave the combatants upon the right. He continued 
in this direction for nearly an hour, until he supposed 
himself out of the immediate line of the enemy's opera- 
tions, when he again changed his course to the east- 
ward, moving as rapidly as possible, with an interval 
of twenty paces between them, and steadily regulating 



WILLIAM CRAWFORD. 133 

their route by the north star. The boy who accompa- 
nied them was brisk and active; but the old man con- 
stantly lagged behind, and as constantly shouted aloud 
for them to wait for him. They often remonstrated 
with him on the impropriety of making so much noise 
at a time when all their lives depended upon secrecy 
and celerity, and he repeatedly promised to do so no 
more. 

At length, upon crossing Sandusky Creek, the old 
man found himself once more considerably in the rear, 
and once more shouted aloud for them to wait uwtil 
he could come up. Before they could reply, a halloo 
was heard in the rear of their left, and apparently not 
more than one hundred paces from the spot where the 
old man stood. Supposing it to be the cry of an In- 
dian, they remained still and silent for several minutes, 
looking keenly around them in the expectation of be- 
holding an enemy. Every thing, however, continued 
silent. The old man was heard no more; and whether 
he escaped, or was killed, could never be ascertained. 
The party continued their flight until daybreak, when 
Colonel Crawford's horse, and that of the boy, sunk 
under their riders and were abandoned. 

Continuing their journey on foot, they quickly fell in 
with Captain Biggs, an expert woodsman and gallant 
officer, who, in the universal scattering, had generously 
brought off a wounded officer — Lieutenant Ashley — 
upon his own horse, and was now composedly walking 
by his side, with a rifle in his hand and a knapsack 
upon his shoulders. This casual meeting was gratify- 
ing to both parties, and they continued their journey 
with renewed spirits. At three o'clock in the afternoon 
a heavy rain tell, and compelled them to encamp. A 
temporary shelter was quickly formed by barking sev- 
eral trees, after the manner of the Indians, and spread- 
ing the bark over poles, so as to form a roof. A fire 
was then kindled, and the rain continued to pour down 
in torrents. They remained here through the night 
without any accident. 

Continuing their route on the following morning, at 
the distance of three miles from the camp, they found 



134 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

a deer which had recently been killed and skinned. 
The meat was neatly sliced and bundled up in the skin — 
and a tomahawk lay near — giving room for suspicion 
that Indians were in the neighborhood. As the whole 
party had fasted for thirty-six hours, this was a very 
acceptable treat; and, lifting the skin, with the meat 
inclosed, from the ground, they carried it with them 
until they had leisure to cook it. Having advanced a 
mile further, they observed a smoke in the woods before 
them. The party instantly halted, while Colonel Craw- 
forcl and Dr. Knight advanced to reconnoiter. 

Cautiously approaching the fire, they found it burn- 
ing brightly, but abandoned, from which they inferred 
that a party had encamped there the preceding night, 
and had retired a few minutes before their approach. 
Having carefully examined the bushes around, and dis- 
covered no Indian sign, they directed their friends in 
the rear to come up, and quickly set about preparing 
breakfast. In a few minutes they observed a white man 
skulking in the rear, examining the trail, and apparently 
very shy of approaching them. Calling out to him in 
a friendly tone, they invited him to approach without 
fear, assuring him that they were countrymen and friends. 
The man instantly complied, and informed them that 
he had killed the deer which they were cooking, but 
hearing them approach, he had taken them for enemies, 
and had fled into the bushes for concealment. 

Highly pleased at this further accession to their 
strength, the party breakfasted heartily upon the deer, 
and continued their march. By noon, they had reached 
the path by which the army had marched a few days 
before in their advance upon the Indian towns, and 
some discussion took place as to the propriety of taking 
that road homeward. Biggs and the doctor strenuously 
insisted upon continuing their course through the woods, 
and avoiding all paths ; but Crawford overruled them, 
assuring them that the Indians would not urge the 
pursuit beyond the plains, which were already far be- 
hind. Unfortunately, the colonel prevailed; and, aban- 
doning their due eastern course, the party pursued the 
beaten path. Crawford and Knight moved one hundred 



WILLIAM CRAWFORD. 135 

and fifty yards in front, Biggs and his wounded friend 
Ashley were in the center, both on horseback, the doctor 
having lent Biggs his horse, and the two men on foot 
brought up the rear. 

They soon had reason to repent their temerity. 
Scarcely had they advanced a mile when several Indians 
sprung up within twenty yards of Knight and Craw- 
ford, presented their guns, and in good English ordered 
them to stop. Knight instantly sprung behind a large 
black-oak, cocked his gun, and began to take aim at the 
foremost. Crawford, however, did not attempt to con- 
ceal himself; but, calling hastily to Knight, ordered 
him twice not to fire. Instantly, the Indian at whom 
Knight had taken aim, ran up to the colonel with every 
demonstration of friendship, shook his hand cordially, 
and asked how he did. Knight still maintaining a 
hostile attitude behind the tree, Crawford called to him 
again, and ordered him to put down his gun, which the 
doctor very reluctantly obeyed. 

Biggs and Ashley, seeing the condition of their friends, 
halted ; while the two men in the rear very prudently 
took to their heels and escaped. One of the Indians 
then told Crawford to order Biggs to come up and sur- 
render or they would kill him. The colonel complied; 
but Biggs, feeling no inclination to obey his commander 
in the present instance, very coolly cocked his rifle, took 
deliberate aim at one of the Indians, and fired, although 
without effect. He and Ashley then put spurs to their 
horses and for the time escaped. The two prisoners 
were then taken to the Indian camp, which stood within 
a few miles of the place where they were taken; and, 
on the next evening, five Delawares came in with the 
scalps and horses of Biggs and Ashley, who it appeared 
had returned to the road, and were intercepted a few 
miles further on. 

On the following morning, the tenth of June, Craw- 
ford and Knight, together with nine more prisoners, 
were conducted by their captors, seventeen in number, 
to the old tow T n of Sandusky, about thirty -three miles 
distant. The main body halted at night within eight 
miles of the village; but as Colonel Crawford expressed 



130 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

great anxiety to speak with Simon Girty, who was then 
at Sandusky, he was permitted to go on that evening, 
under the care of two Indians. On Tuesday morning, 
the eleventh of June, Colonel Crawford was brought 
back from Sandusky, on purpose to march into town 
with the other prisoners. Knight eagerly accosted him 
and asked if he had seen Girty. 

The colonel replied in the affirmative ; and added 
that Girty had promised to use his utmost influence for 
his (the colonel's) safety, but was fearful of the conse- 
quences, as the Indians generally, and particularly 
Captain Pipe, one of the Delaware chiefs, were much 
incensed against the prisoners, and were endeavoring to 
have them all burned. The colonel added that he had 
heard of his son-in-law, Colonel Harrison, and his 
nephew, William Crawford, both of whom had been 
taken by the Shawnees and admitted to mercy. Shortly 
after this communication, their capital enemy, Captain 
Pipe, appeared. His appearance was by no means un- 
prepossessing, and he exhibited none of the ferocity 
which Knight, from Girty's account, had been led to 
expect. 

On the contrary, his manners were bland and his 
language flatteriug. But one ominous circumstance 
attended his visit : with his own hand, he 'painted every 
prisoner black! While in the act of painting the doctor, 
he was as polite as a French valet, assuring him that 
he should soon go to the Shawnee town and see his 
friends; and while painting the colonel, he told him 
that his head should be shaved, i. e., he should be 
adopted, as soon as he arrived at the Wyandott town. 
As soon as fhe prisoners were painted, they were con- 
ducted toward the town, Captain Pipe walking by the 
side of Crawford, and treating him with the utmost 
kindness; while the other prisoners, with the exception 
of Dr. Knight, were pushed on ahead of him. 

As they advanced, they were shocked at observing the 
bodies of four of their friends, who had just left them, 
lying near the path, tomahawked and scalped, with an 
interval of nearly a mile between each. They had ev- 
idently perished in running the gauntlet. This spectacle 



WILLIAM CRAWFORD. 137 

-was regarded as a sad presage of their own fate. In a 
short time they overtook the live prisoners who remained 
alive. They were seated on the ground, and appeared 
much dejected. Nearly seventy squaws and Indian 
boys surrounded them, menacing them with knives and 
tomahawks, and exhausting upon them every abusive 
epithet which their language afforded. Crawford and 
Knight were compelled to sit down apart from the rest; 
and immediately afterward, the doctor was given to a 
Shawnee warrior, to be conducted to their town, while 
the colonel remained stationary. 

The boys and squaws then iell upon the other pris- 
oners ami tomahawked them in a moment. Among 
them was Captain McKinley, who had served with rep- 
utation throughout the Revolutionary war until the cap- 
ture of Cornwallis. An old withered hag approached 
him, brandishing a long knife, and, seizing him by the 
hair, instantly cut off his head and kicked it near the 
spot where Crawford sat in momentary expectation of a 
similar fate. Another destiny, however, was reserved 
for him. After having sufficiently exhausted their rage 
upon the lifeless bodies of the five prisoners, the whole 
party started up, and, driving Crawford before them, 
marched toward the village. 

Presently, Girty appeared on horseback, coming from 
Sandusky. He stopped for a few moments and spoke 
to Crawford, then passing to the rear of the party, ad- 
dressed Knight. "Is this the doctor?" inquired he, 
with an insulting smile. "Yes! Mr. Girty, 1 am glad 
to see you!" replied poor Knight, advancing toward him 
and anxiously extending his hand. But Girty cursed 
him in a savage tone, ordered him to be gone, and not 

to suppose that he would give his hand to such a 

rascal. Upon this, the Shawnee warrior who had him 
in custody, dragged him along by a rope. Girty fol- 
lowed on horseback, and informed him that he was to 
go to Chillicothe. Presently they came to a spot w here 
there was a large fire, around which about thirty war- 
riors, and more than double that number of boys and 
squaws, were collected. 

As soon as the colonel arrived, they surrounded him, 



138 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

stripped him naked, and compelled him to sit on the 
ground near the fire. They then fell upon him and 
beat him severely with sticks and their fists. In a few 
minutes a large stake was fixed in the ground, and 
piles of hickory pules, rather thicker than a man's 
thumb, and about twelve feet in length, were spread 
around it. Colonel Crawford's hands were then tied 
behind his back ; a strong rope was produced, one end 
of which was fastened to the ligature between his wrists 
and the other tied to the bottom of the stake. The rope 
was long enough to permit him to walk around the stake 
several times and then return. Fire was then applied 
to the hickory poles, which lay in piles at the distance 
of six or seven yards from the stake. 

The colonel, observing these terrible preparations, 
called to Girty, who sat on horseback, at the distance 
of a few yards from the fire, and asked if the Indians 
were going to burn him. Girty very coolly replied in 
the affirmative. The colonel heard the intelligence with 
firmness, merely observing that he would bear it with 
fortitude. When the hickory poles had been burnt 
asunder in the middle, Captain Pipe arose and addressed 
the crowd, in a tone of great energy, and with animated 
gestures, pointing frequently to the colonel, who regarded 
him with an appearance of unruffled composure. As 
soon as he had ended, a loud whoop burst from the as- 
sembled throng, and they all rushed at once upon the 
unfortunate Crawford. For several seconds the crowd 
was so great around him, that Knight could not see what 
they were doing; but in a short time they had dispersed 
sufficiently to give him a view of the colonel. 

His ears had been cut off, and the blood was stream- 
ing down each side of his face. A terrible scene of tor- 
ture now commenced. The warriors shot charges of 
powder into his naked body, commencing with the calves 
of his legs and continuing to his neck. The boys 
snatched the burning hickory poles and applied them 
to his flesh. As fast as he ran around the stake to 
avoid one party of tormentors, he was promptly met at 
every turn by others, with burning poles, red-hot irons, 
and rifles loaded with powder only; so that in a few 



WILLIAM CRAWFORD. 139 

minutes nearly one hundred charges of powder had 
been shot into his body, which had become black and 
blistered in a dreadful manner. The squaws would take 
up a quantity of coals and hot ashes, and throw them 
upon his body, so that in a few minutes he had nothing 
but fire to walk upon. 

In the extremity of his agony, the unhappy colonel 
called aloud upon Girty, in tones which rang through 
Knight's brain with maddening effect: "Girty! Girty! 
shoot me through the heart! Quick! quick! Do not 
refuse me!" "Don't you see I have no gun, colonel?" 
replied the monster, bursting into a loud laugh, and 
then, turning to an Indian beside him, he uttered some 
brutal jests upon the naked and mi>erable appearance 
of the prisoner. While this awful scene was being 
enacted, Girty rode up to the spot where Dr. Knight 
stood, and told him that he now had a foretaste of what 
was in reserve for him at the Shawnee towns. He swore 
that he need not expect to escape death, but should suf- 
fer it in all the extremity of torture! 

Knight, whose mind was deeply agitated at the sight 
of the fearful scene before him, took no notice of Girty, 
but preserved an impenetrable silence. Girty, after 
coldly contemplating the colonel's sufferings for a few 
moments, turned again to Knight, and indulged in a 
bitter invective against a certain Colonel Gibson, from 
whom, he said, he had received deep injury, and dwelt 
upon the delight with which he would see him undergo 
such tortures as those which Crawford was then suffer- 
ing. He observed, in a taunting tone, that most of the 
prisoners had said that the white people would not in- 
jure him, if the chance of war was to throw him into 
their power ; but that, for his own part, he should be loath 
to try the experiment. "I think," added he, with a laugh, 
"that they would roast me alive with more pleasure 
than those red fellows are now broiling the colonel! 
What is your opinion, doctor? Do you think they 
would be glad to see me?" Still Knight made no an- 
swer, and in a few minutes Girty rejoined the Indians. 

The terrible scene had now lasted more than two 
hours, and Crawford had become much exhausted. He 



140 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

walked slowly around the stake, spoke in a low tone, 
and earnestly besought God to look with compassion 
upon him, and pardon his sins. His nerves had lost 
much of their sensibility, and he no longer shrank from 
the firebrands with which they incessantly touched him. 
At length he sank in a fainting fit upon his face, and 
lay motionless. Instantly an Indian sprang upon his 
back, knelt lightly upon one knee, made a circular in- 
cision with his knife upon the crown of his head, and, 
clapping the knife between his teeth, tore the scalp off 
with both hands. Scarcely had this been done, when a 
withered hag approached with a board full of burning 
embers, and poured them upon the crown of his head, 
now laid bare to the bone. The colonel groaned deeply, 
arose, and again walked slowly around the stake. But 
why continue a description so horrible? Nature at 
length could endure no more, and at a late hour in the 
night he was released by death from the hands of his 
tormentors. 

At sunset Dr. Knight was removed from the ground, 
and taken to the house of Captain Pipe, where, after 
having been securely bound, he was permitted to sleep 
unmolested. On the next morning, the Indian fellow 
to whose care he had been committed unbound him, 
again painted him black, and told him lie must instantly 
march off for the Shawnee village. The doctor was a 
small, weak man, and had sunk much under the hard- 
ship to which he had been exposed; and this, probably, 
was the cause of his having been committed, unbound, 
to the guardianship of a single Indian. They quickly 
left Sandusky, and in a few minutes passed by the spot 
where Crawford had been tortured. His flesh had been 
entirely consumed, and his bones, half burnt and black- 
ened by the fire, lay scattered around the stake. The 
Indian fellow who guarded him uttered the scalp halloo 
as he passed the spot, and insultingly told Knight that 
"these Avere the bones of his Big Captain!" Knight 
was on foot, the Indian mounted on a pony and well 
armed ; yet the doctor determined to effect his escape, or 
compel his enemy to shoot him dead upon the spot. 

The awful torture which Crawford had undergone had 



WILLIAM CRAWFORD. 141 

left a deep impression upon his mind. The savage inti- 
mation of Girty was not forgotten, and he regarded 
death by shooting as a luxury compared with the pro- 
tracted agony of the stake. Anxious, however, to lull 
the suspicious temper of the Indian, who appeared to be 
extremely vigilant, he spoke to him in a cheerful, con- 
fident tone, and pretended to be entirely ignorant of the 
fate which awaited him at the Shawnee town. He 
found the fellow very sociable, and apparently as simple 
as he could wish. Upon his asking it they were not to 
live together in the same cabin like brothers, as soon as 
they arrived at the end of their journey, the Indian 
seemed plea-ed, and replied, "Yes." He then asked 
the doctor if he could make a wigwam. The doctor 
boldly asserted that he was a capital workman in wood, 
and could build a wigwam to which their most spacious 
council-houses were mere hovels. This assertion evi- 
dently elevaied him in the Indian's esteem, and they 
continmd to chat in a very friendly manner, each prob- 
ably thinking that he had made a dupe of the other. 

After traveling about twenty-five miles they encamped 
for the night, when Knight permitted himself to be 
bound. The Indian then informed him that they would 
reach the Shawnee village about the middle of the next 
day, and seemed to compose himself to rest. Knight 
frequently attempted to untie himself, but was as of en 
frustrated by the incessant vigilance of the Indian, whose 
dark eyes were rolling around him throughout the whole 
night. At daylight the Indian arose and unbound his 
prisoner, who imtantly determined to attempt an escape 
without further delay. His conductor did not immedi- 
ately leave the spot, but began to rekindle their fire, 
which had burned low, and employed himself diligently 
in giving battle to the myriads of gnats that swarmed 
around him and fastened upon his naked body with high 
relish. Knight, seeing him rub his back with great en- 
ergy, muttering petulantly in the Indian tongue, asked 
if he should make a smoke behind him, in order to drive 
the gnats away. 

The Indian told him to do so, and Knight, arising 
from his seat, took the end of a dogwood fork, about 



142 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

eighteen inches in length, and, putting a coal of fire be- 
tween it and another stick, went behind the Indian as 
if to kindle a fire. Gently laying down the coal, he 
paused a moment to collect his strength, and then struck 
the Indian a furious blow upon the back of the head 
with the dogwood stick. The fellow stumbled forward, 
and fell with his hands in the fire; but, instantly rising 
again, ran off with great rapidity, howling most dis- 
mally. Knight instantly seized the rifle which his enemy 
had abandoned, and pursued him, intending to shoot 
him dead on the spot, and thus prevent pursuit ; but, 
in drawing back the cock of .the gun too violently, he 
injured it so much that it would not go off, and the In- 
dian, .frightened out of his wits, and leaping and dodg- 
ing with the activity of a wild cat, at length effected his 
escape. 

On the same day, about noon, as Knight afterward 
learned from a prisoner who effected his escape, the In- 
dian arrived at the Shawnee village, with his head 
dreadfully cut, and his legs torn by the briers. He 
proved to be a happy mixture of the braggadocio and 
coward, and treated his fellows with a magnificent de- 
scription of his contest with Knight, whom he repre- 
sented as a giant in stature (five feet seven inches!), and 
a buffalo in strength and fierceness. He said that 
Knight prevailed upon him to untie him, and that while 
they were conversing like brothers, and while he him- 
self was suspecting no harm, his prisoner suddenly seized 
a dogwood sapling, and belabored him, now on this side 
of his head, now on the other (here his gestures were 
very lively), until he was scarcely able to stand. That, 
nevertheless, he made a manful resistance, and stabbed 
his gigantic antagonist twice, once in the back, and 
once in the belly; but, seeing that his knife made no 
impression upon the strength of the prisoner, he was at 
length compelled to leave him, satisfied that the wounds 
which he had inflicted must at length prove mortal. 
The Indians were much diverted at his account of the 
affair, and laughed loud and long, evidently not believ- 
ing a syllable of the tale, at least so far as his own prow- 
ess was concerned. 



WILLIAM CRAWFORD. 143 

In the meantime, Knight, finding it useless to pursue 
the Indian, to whom terror had lent wings, hastily re- 
turned to the fire, and taking the Indian's blanket, moc- 
casins, bullet bag, and powder horn, lost no time in 
moving off, directing his course toward the north-east. 
About half an hour by sun, he came to the plains al- 
ready mentioned, which were about sixteen miles wide. 
Not choosing to cross them by daylight,' he lay down in 
the high grass until dark ; then, guided by the north 
star, he crossed them rapidly, and before daylight had 
reached the woods on the other side. Without halting 
for a moment, he continued his march until late in the 
afternoon, crossing nearly at light angles the path by 
which the troops had advanced, and moving steadily to 
the northward, with the hope of avoiding the enemy, 
who might still.be lingering upon the rear of the troops. 

In the evening he felt very faint and hungry, having 
tasted nothing for three days, and very little since his 
captivity. Wild gooseb^nies grew very abundantly in 
the woods, but, being still green, they required masti- 
cation, which he was unable to perform, his jaws having 
been much injured by a blow from the back of a toma- 
hawk. There was a weed, however, which grew in the 
woods, the juice of which was grateful to the palate and 
nourishing to the body. Of this he sucked plentifully, 
and finding himself much refreshed, was enabled to con- 
tinue his journey Supposing that he had now advanced 
sufficiently to the northward to baffle his pursuers, he 
changed his course and steered due east. 

Wishing, if possible, to procure some animal food, 
he often attempted to rectify the lock of his gun, sup- 
posing that it was only wood-bound ; but, having no knife, 
he w T as unable to unscrew it, and was at length reluc- 
tantly compelled to throw it away as a useless burden. 
His jaw rapidly recovered, and he was enabled to chew 
green gooseberries, upon which, together with two young 
unfledged blackbirds, and one land terrapin (both de- 
voured raw 7 ), he managed to subsist for twenty-one days. 
He swam the Muskingum a few miles below Fort Law- 
rence, and, crossing all paths, directed his steps to the 
Ohio River. He struck it at a few miles below Fort 
14 



144 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

Mcintosh on the evening of the twenty-first day, and on 
the morning of the twenty-second reached the fort in 
safety. 

Such was the lamentable expedition of Colonel Craw- 
ford, rashly undertaken, injudiciously prosecuted, and 
terminating with almost unprecedented calamity. The 
insubordinate spirit of the men, together with the inade- 
quacy of the force, were the great causes of the failure. 
The first was incident to the nature of the force, but the 
second might have been remedied by a little considera- 
tion. Repeated disasters, however, were necessary to 
convince the Americans of the necessity of employing a 
sufficient force, and it was not until they had suffered by 
the experience of ten more years that this was at length 
done. The defeat of Braddock had been bloody, but 
not disgraceful. Officers and soldiers died in battle, and 
with arms in their hands. Not a man offered to leave 
the ground until a retreat was ordered. Crawford, on 
the contrary, perished miserably at the stake, as did 
most of his men. They were taken in detail, skulking 
through the woods to avoid an enemy whom they might 
have vanquished by union, steadiness, and courage. It 
stands upon record as one of the most calamitous and 
disgraceful expeditions which has ever stained the Amer- 
ican arms. 



JOHN SLOVEB. 145 



CHAPTER VI. 

DURING the old French war, John Slover, a native 
of Virginia, was taken by a party of Miami Indi- 
ans, on the banks of White River, and immediately con- 
ducted to the Indian town of Sandusky. Here he re- 
sided from his eighth to his twentieth year. At the 
treaty of Pittsburgh, in the fall of 1773, he came in 
with the Shawnee nation, and accidentally meeting with 
some of his relations, he was recognized and earnestly 
exhorted to relinquish his connection with the Indians, 
and return to his friends. He yielded with some re- 
luctance, having become strongly attached to a savage 
life ; and having probably but little relish for labor on 
a farm, after the easy life which he had led in Ohio, 
he enlisted in the continental army, and served two 
campaigns with credit, as a sharp-shooter. Having 
been properly discharged, he settled in Westmoreland 
County, and when the unfortunate expedition of Craw- 
ford w 7 as set on foot, w T as strongly urged to attend in 
the capacity of a guide. 

Conquering the distaste which he naturally felt at the 
idea of conducting a hostile array against his former 
friends, he yielded to the persuasion of his neighbors, 
and shared in all the dangers of the army. At the mo- 
ment when the rout took place, Slover was in the im- 
mediate neighborhood of the enemy, attending to a 
number of horses that were grazing on the plain. But 
the uproar m front, occasioned by the tumultuous flight 
of more than four hundred men, soon w r arned him of 
his danger. He hastily mounted the best horse within 
reach, and put him to his utmost speed. He soon over- 
took the main body, and was among the foremost when 
the Indians attempted to intercept them. A deep bog 



146 WESTERN ADVENTURE, 

crossed the line of retreat, and occasioned immense 
confusion. 

Those who first reached it, plunged in without hesi- 
tation, but after struggling for a few minutes, their 
horses stuck fast, and were necessarily abandoned. The 
darkness of the night, and the hurry of the retreat, 
prevented the rear from profiting by the misfortune of 
the van. Horseman after horseman plunged madly into 
the swamp, and in a few minutes a scene which baffles 
all attempt at description took place. Not one-tenth 
part of the horses were able to struggle through. Their 
riders dismounted and endeavored, on foot, to reach 
the opposite side. The Indians pressed upon them, 
pouring an incessant fire upon the mass of fugitives, 
some of whom were completely mired, and sunk gradu- 
ally to the chin, in which condition they remained until 
the following morning ; others, with great difficulty, 
effected a passage, and continued their flight on foot. 

Slover, having struggled for several minutes to dis- 
engage his horse, was at length compelled to abandon 
him, and wade through the morass as he best could, on 
foot. After incredible fatigue and danger, he at length 
reached the firm ground, covered with mud, and fright- 
ened not a little at hearing the yells of the enemy im- 
mediately behind him and upon each flank, many of 
them having crossed a few hundred yards above, where 
the mud was not so deep. In a few minutes he over- 
took a party of six men on foot, having been compelled 
like himself to abandon their horses, and two of them 
having even lost their guns. Finding themselves hard 
pressed by the enemy, who urged the pursuit with great 
keenness, they changed their course from an. eastern to 
a western direction, almost turning upon their own trail, 
and bending their steps toward Detroit. In a short 
time they struck the same swamp, although considera- 
bly higher up, and were compelled to wait until day- 
light in order to find their way across. Having suc- 
ceeded at length in reaching the opposite side, they 
traveled, throughout the day, directly toward the 
ShawDee towns. This, as the event proved, was finess- 
ing rather too much. They would certainly avoid 



JOHN SLOVEIl. 147 

their pursuers, but they were plunging into the midst 
of the Indian settlement?, and must expect to meet 
with roving bands of Indians in every direction. 

At ten o'clock they halted for breakfast, having eaten 
nothing for two days. While busily engaged with their 
ration of cold pork and corn bread, they were alarmed 
by hearing a halloo immediately behind them, which 
was instantly answered by two others upon each flank. 
Hastily dropping their wallets, they fled into the grass, 
and falling upon their faces, awaited with beating hearts 
the approach of the enemy. Presently, seven or eight 
Indians appeared, talking and laughing in high spirits, 
evidently ignorant of the presence of the fugitives. In 
a few minutes they had passed, and the party cautiously 
returned to their wallets. The fright, however, had 
completely spoiled their appetites, and hastily gather- 
ing up the remnant of their provisions, they continued 
their journey, changing their course a little to the north, 
in on lei* to avoid the party who had just passed. 

By twelve o'clock they reached a large prairie, which 
it was necessary for them to cross, or return upon their 
own footsteps. In the prairie they would be much ex- 
posed, as an enemy could see them at a vast distance, 
but to return to the spot from which they had started 
was so melancholy an alternative that, after a short and 
anxious consultation, it was determined at all risks to 
proceed. They accordingly entered the vast plain, which 
stretched for many miles before them, affording no means 
of concealment but the grass, and advanced rapidly but 
cautiously, until about one o'clock, when the man in 
front called their attention to a number of moving ob- 
jects ahead, which seemed to approach them. The grass 
was high, and the objects indistinct. 

They might be Indians, or elk, or buffalo ; but who- 
ever or whatever they were, it would be as well perhaps 
not to await their coming. They accordingly crawled 
aside, and again lay down in the grass, occasionally 
lifting their heads in order to reconnoiter the strangers. 
As they drew near, they perceived them to be a party 
of Indians, but from the loose and straggling manner in 
which they walked, and the loudness of their voices, 



148 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

tliey were satisfied that they had not been detected. 
The Indians quickly passed them and disappeared in 
the grass. The party then arose and continued their 
journey, looking keenly around them, in hourly expec- 
tation of another party of the enemy. 

In the evening a heavy rain fell, the coldest that they 
had ever felt, and from which it was impossible to find 
a shelter. Drenched to the skin and shivering with 
cold, they waded on through the grass until near sun- 
set, when to their great joy they saw a deep forest im- 
mediately in front, where they could obtain shelter as 
well from the storm as the enemy. The rain, however, 
which had poured in torrents while they were exposed 
to it, ceased at once as soon as they had reached a shel- 
ter. Considering this a good omen, they encamped for 
the night, and on the following morning, recommenced 
their journey with renewed spirits. They were much 
delayed, however, by the infirmity of two of their men, 
one of whom had burnt his foot severely, and the other's 
knees were swollen with the rheumatism. 

The rheumatic traveler, at length, fell considerably 
behind. The party halted, hallooed for him, and whis- 
tled loudly upon their chargers, but in vain. They saw 
him no more on their march, although he afterward 
reached Wheeling in safety, while his stronger compan- 
ions, as we shall quickly see, were not so fortunate. 
They had now again shifted their course, and w r ere 
marching in a straight direction toward Pittsburgh. 
They had passed over the most dangerous part of the 
road, and had, thus far, got the first view of every ene- 
my who appeared. 

On the morning of the third day, however, a party 
of Indians, who had secretly dogged them from the 
prairie (through which their trail had been broad and 
obvious), had now outstripped them, and lay in ambush 
on their road. The first intimation which Slover had 
of their existence, was a close discharge of rifles, which 
killed two of their party. The four survivers instantly 
ran to the trees, but two of their guns had been left in 
the swamp, so that two only remained fit for service. 
Slover, whose gun was in good order, took aim at the 



JOHN SLOVER. 149 

foremost Indian, who, raising his hand warningly, told 
him not to fire and he should be treated kindly. Slover 
and his two unarmed companions instantly surrendered, 
but John Paul, a youth, refused to be included in the 
capitulation, and being equally bold and active, com- 
pletely baffled his pursuers and came safely into 
Wheeling. 

One of the Indians instantly recognized Slover, hav- 
ing been present at his capture many years before, and 
having afterward lived with him at Sandusky. He 
called him by his Indian name (Mannuchcothe), and 
reproached him indignantly for bearing arms against 
his brothers. Slover was somewhat confused at the 
charge, fearing that his recognition would be fatal to 
him when he should reach the Indian towns. They 
were taken back to the prairie, where the Indians had 
left their horses, and each mounting a horse, they 
moved rapidly toward the nearest town, which proved 
to be Waugheotomoco, the theater of Kenton's adven- 
ture,' four years before. Upon approaching the town, 
the Indians, who had heretofore been very kind to 
them, suddenly began to look sour, and put themselves 
into a passion by dwelling upon their injuries. Pres- 
ently, as usual, the squaws, boys, etc., came out, and 
the usual scene commenced. They soon became tired 
of abusing and switching them, and, having selected 
the oldest of the three, they blacked his face with coal 
and water. The poor fellow was much agitated, and 
cried bitterly, 1'requently asking Slover if they were 
not going to burn him. The Indians, in their own 
language, hastily forbid Slover to answer him, and 
coming up to their intended victim, patted him upon 
the back, and with many honeyed epithets assured him 
that they would not hurt him. They then marched on 
to the large town, about two miles beyond the small 
one (both bearing the same name), having, as usual, 
sent a runner in advance to inform the inhabitants of 
their approach. 

The whole village presently flocked out, and a row 
was formed for the gauntlet. The man who had been 
blacked attracted so much attention, that Slover and 



150 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

his companion scarcely received a blow. The former 
preceded them by twenty yards, and was furiously at- 
tacked by every individual. Loads of powder were 
shot into his body, deep wounds were inflicted with 
knives and tomahawks, and sand was thrown into his 
eyes, and he was several times knocked down by cud- 
gels. Having heard that he would be safe on reaching 
the council-house, he forced his way with gigantic 
strength through all opposition, and grasped the post 
with both hands, his body burnt with powder and cov- 
ered with blood. 

He was furiousl}' torn from his place of refuge, how T - 
ever, and thrust back among his enemies. When finding 
that they would give him no quarter, he returned their 
blows with a fury equal to their own, crying piteously 
the whole time, and frequently endeavoring to wrest a 
tomahawk from his enemies. This singular scene con- 
tinued for nearly half an hour, when the prisoner was 
at length beaten to death. Slover and his companion 
reached the post in safety, and were silent spectators of 
the fate of their friend. As soOn as he was dead, the 
Indians cut up his body, and stuck the head and quar- 
ters upon poles in the center of the town. 

On the same evening he beheld the dead bodies of 
young Crawford and Colonel Harrison, and a third, 
whom he supposed to be Colonel McClelland, the second 
in command. Their bodies were black and mangled, 
like that of their unfortunate companion, having been 
beaten to death a few hours before their arrival. As 
he passed by the bodies, the Indians smiled maliciously, 
and asked if he knew them. He mentioned their 
names, upon which they nodded with much satisfac- 
tion. In the evening, all the dead bodies were dragged 
beyond the limits of the town, and abandoned to the 
dogs and wolves. In twenty four hours, their bones 
onlv were to be seen. 

On the following morning, SI over's only surviving 
companion was marched off to a neighboring town, and 
never heard of afterward. Slover, himself, was sum- 
moned in the evening to attend at the council-house, 
and give an account of his conduct. Heretofore he had 



JOHN SLOVER. 151 

generally been treated with kindness, and on the first 
day of the council he saw no symptoms of a disposition 
to put him to death. But on the second day James 
Girty arrived, from Crawford's execution, and instantly 
threw the whole weight of his influence into the scale 
against the prisoner. He dwelt, with much emphasis, 
upon the ingratitude of Slover in serving as a spy 
against those who had formerly treated him with such 
distinguished kindness, and scrupled not to affirm that 
in a confidential conversation, which he had had with 
the prisoner on that morning, he had asked him " how 
he would like to live again with his old friends?" — 
upon which Slover had laughed and replied, that " he 
would stay until he had an opportunity of taking a scalp, 
and would then steal a horse and return to the whites.'' 
Slover knew many of his judges by name, spoke their 
language fluently, and made a vigorous defense. He 
said that, during the whole twelve. years of his former 
captivity among them, he had given ample proofs of 
his fidelity to the Indians. That, although he had a 
thousand opportunities, he had never once attempted an 
escape ; and there were several ngw present who could 
testily that at the treaty of Fort Pitt he had left them 
with reluctance, in compliance with the earnest solicita- 
tions of his family. That he had then taken leave of 
them publicly, in broad daylight, in time of profound 
peace, and with their full approbation. That he then 
had no idea of the existence of a future w T ar ; but 
when war came, it was his duty to accompany his 
countrymen to the field against the Indians, precisely 
as he would have accompanied the Indians formerly 
against the whites. That it w r as the undoubted duty of 
every warrior to serve his country, without regard to his 
own private feelings of attachment ; that he had done 
so ; and if the Indians thought it worthy of death, they 
could inflict the penalty upon him ! — he was alone, and 
in their power. That Mr. Girty's assertion was posi- 
tively false : he had not exchanged a syllable with him, 
beyond a brief and cold salutation, when they had met 
in the morning, not to mention the absurdity of suppos- 
ing that, if he had really entertained such an idea, he 
15 



152 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

would have communicated it to Girty ! — the sworn 
enemy of the whites, and, as he believed, his own per- 
sonal enemy. 

This vigorous and natural defense seemed to make 
some impression upon his enemies. Girty's assertion was 
so strikingly improbable that very few gave it credit, 
and some of Slover's old friends exerted themselves 
actively in his behalf. The council suspended their 
decision for several days, and, in the meantime, en- 
deavored to gain information from him as to the present 
condition of Virginia. Slover informed them that Corn- 
wallis had been captured, together with his whole army, 
which astonished them much, and compelled* them to 
utter some deep guttural interjections. But Girty and 
McKey became very angry, swore that it was a lie, and 
renewed their exertions, with increased ardor, to have 
him brought to the stake. While his trial was pending, 
he was unbound and unguarded, was invited to all their 
dances, and suffered to reside, as an inmate, in the cabin 
of an old squaw, who treated him with great affection. 

Girty was blustering, ferocious, and vulgar in his 
manners ; but McKey was silent, grave and stern, never 
addressing Slover, and seldom speaking in council. He 
lived apart from the rest in a handsome house, built of 
white-oak logs, elegantly hewed, and neatly covered with 
shingles. His hatred to the whites was deep and in- 
veterate, and his influence was constantly exerted 
against every prisoner who came before him. They 
spared no pains in endeavoring to entrap Slover into 
some unguarded words, which might injure him with 
the Indians. A white man one morning asked Slover 
to walk out with him, as he had something of impor- 
tance to communicate. 

As soon as they had gained the fields, the fellow 
halted, and, in a confidential tone, informed Slover that 
he had two brothers living upon the banks of the Po- 
tomac, whom he was desirous of seeing again ; that the 
Indians had given him his life for the pre-ent, but they 
were such capricious devils that there was no confidence 
to be placed in them, and he felt disposed to escape 
while it was in his power, if Slover would accompany 



JOHN SLOVER. 153 

him. Slover heard him coldly, and, with an appearance 
of great surprise, blamed him for entertaining so rash 
a project, and assured him that he was determined 
to encounter no such risk. The emissary of Girty and 
McKey returned instantly to the council, and reported 
that Slover had eagerly entered into the project, and 
was desirous of escaping that evening. 

Two days afterward, a very large council was held, 
being composed of warriors from the Shawnee, Dela- 
ware, Wyandott, Chippewa, and Mingo tribes. Two 
Indians came to the wigwam, in order to conduct 
Slover once more before his judges, but the old squaw 
concealed him beneath a large hear-skin, and fell upon 
the two messengers so fiercely with her tongue that they 
were compelled to retreat with some preciphation. This 
zeal in his service, on the part of the old squaw 7 , was 
rather alarming than gratiiying to Slover, for he rightly 
conjectured that something evil was brewing, which he 
knew that she would be unable to avert. He was not 
long in suspense. Within two hours, Girty came into 
the hut, followed by more than forty warriors, and seiz- 
ing Slover, stripped him naked, bound his hands behind 
him, painted his body black, and bore him off with great 
violence. Girty exulted greatly in the success of his 
efforts, and loaded him with curses and reproaches, 
assuring him that he would now get what he had long 
deserved. 

The prisoner was borne off to a town at the distance 
of five miles from Waughcotomoco, where he was met, 
as usual, by all the inhabitants, and beaten, in the 
ordinary manner, for one hour. They then carried him 
to another little village, about two miles distant, where 
a stake and hickory poles had been prepared, in order 
to burn him that evening. The scene of his intended 
execution was the council-house, a part of which was 
covered with shingles, and the remainder entirely open 
at the top, and very slightly boarded at the sides. In 
the open space, a pole had been sunk in the ground, 
and the faggots collected. Slover was dragged to the 
stake, his hands bound behind him, and then fastened 
to the pole, as in Crawford's case. 



154 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

Fire was quickly applied to the faggots, which began 
to blaze briskly. An orator then, as usual, addressed 
the assembly, in order to inflame their passions to the 
proper height. Slover, seeing his fate inevitable, ral- 
lied his courage, and prepared to endure it with firm- 
ness. For the last half hour the wind had been high, 
but the clouds were light, and appeared drifting rapidly 
away. While the orator was speaking, however, the 
wind suddenly lulled, and a heavy shower of rain fell, 
which instantly extinguished the fire, and drenched the 
prisoner and his enemies to the skin. Poor Slover, who 
had been making preparations to battle with fire, was 
astonished at finding himself deluged, all at once, with 
so different an element, and the enemy seemed no less so. 
They instantly ran under the covered part of the house, 
and left the prisoner to take the rain freely, assuring 
him, from time to time, that he should be burned on 
the following morning. 

As soon as the rain ceased, they again surrounded 
him, dancing around the stake, kicking him severely, 
and striking him with sticks, until eleven o'clock at 
night. A tall young chief, named " Halt' Moon," then 
stooped down and asked the prisoner if " he was not 
sleepy ? " Slover, somewhat astonished at such a ques- 
tion, and at such a time, replied in the affirmative. 
Half Moon then untied him, conducted him into a 
strong block-house, pinioned his arms until the buffalo, 
tug was btiried in the flesh, and then, passing another 
thong around his neck, and tying the other end to one 
of the beams of the house, left him under a strong 
guard, exhorting him to sleep soundly, for that he must 
" eat fire in the morning." 

The prisoner, on the contrary, never closed his eyes, 
awaiting anxiously until his guard should fill asleep. 
They showed, however, no inclination to indulge him. 
Two of them lay down a little after midnight, but the 
third sat up talking and smoking until nearly daylight. 
He endeavored to entertain Slover, by speculations 
upon his (Slover's) ability to bear pain, handling the 
painful subject with the zest of an amateur, and re- 
counting to the prisoner the particulars of many ex- 



JOHN SLOVER. 155 

hibitions of the same kind which he had witnessed. 
He dwelt upon the entertainment which he had no 
doubt Slover would afford, exhorting him to bear it 
like a man, and not forget that he had once been an 
Indian himself. Upon this torturing subject he 
talked, and smoked, and talked again, until the pris- 
oner's nerves tingled, as if the hot irons were actually 
hissing against his flesh. 

At length the tedious old man's head sunk gradually 
upon his breast, and Slover heard him snoring loudly. 
He paused a few moments, listening intently. His 
heart beat so strongly, that he was fearful lest the 
Indians should hear it, and arrest him in his last 
effort to escape. They did not stir, however, and with 
trembling hands he endeavored to slip the cords from 
his arms over his wrists. In this he succeeded without 
much difficulty, but the thong around his neck was 
more obstinate. He attempted to gnaw it in two, but 
it was as thick as his thumb, and as hard as iron, 
being made of a seasoned buffalo's hide. Daylight 
was" faintly breaking in the east, and he expected every 
moment that his tormentors would summon him to the 
stake. In the agony and earnestness of his feelings, 
the sweat rolled in big drops down his forehead, and 
the quickness of his breathing awakened the old man. 

Slover lay still, fearful of being detected, and kept 
his arms under his back. The old Indian yawned, 
stretched himself, stirred the fire, and then lay down 
again, and began to snore as loudly as ever. Now 
was the time or never ! He seized the rope with both 
hand-, and giving it several quick jerks, could scarcely 
believe his senses when he saw the knot come untied, 
and felt himself at liberty. He arose lightly, stepped 
silently over the bodies of the sleeping Indians, and 
in a moment stood in the open air. Day was just 
breaking, and the inhabitants of the village had not 
yet arisen. He looked around for a moment to see 
whether he was observed, and then ran hastily into a 
cornne]*d in order to conceal himself. On the road he 
had nearly stumbled upon a squaw and several chil- 
dren, who were asleep under a tree. 



156 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

Hastily avoiding them, he ran through the cornfield, 
and observing a number of 'horses on the other side, 
he paused a moment, untied the cord which still con- 
fined his right arm, and hastily fitting it into a halter, 
approached a fine strong colt, about four years old, 
that fortunately proved as gentle as he could wish. 
Fancying that he heard a door open behind him, he 
sprung upon his back as lightly as a squirrel, although 
every limb was bruised and swollen by the severe 
beating of the preceding night, and as the woods were 
open and the ground level, he put his horse to his 
utmost, speed, and was soon out of sight. Confident 
that pursuit would not be delayed more than fifteen 
minutes, he never slackened his speed until about ten 
o'clock in the day, when he reached the Scioto, at a 
point fully fifty miles distant from the village which 
he had left at daylight. 

He here paused a moment, and allowed the noble 
animal, who had borne him so gallantly, to breathe for 
a few minutes. Fearing, however, that the enemy had 
pursued him with the same mad violence, he quickly 
mounted his horse again, and plunged into the Scioto, 
which was now swollen by the recent rains. His 
horse stemmed the current handsomely, but began to 
fail in ascending the opposite bank. He still, how- 
ever, urged him to full speed, and by three o'clock had 
left the Scioto more than twenty miles behind, when 
his horse sunk under him, having galloped upwards 
of seventy miles. Slover instantly sprang from his 
back, and ran on foot until sunset. Halting for a 
moment, he heard a halloo far behind him, and seeing 
the keenness of the pursuit, he continued to run until 
ten o'clock at night, when he sunk upon the ground, 
and vomited violently. In two hours the moon arose, 
which he knew would enable the enemy to follow his 
trail through the night ; and again starting up, he ran 
forward until day. 

During the night, he had followed a path ; but in 
the morning, he abandoned it, and, changing his course, 
followed a high ridge, covered with rank grass and 
weeds, which he carefully put back with a stick as he 



JOHN SLOVER. 157 

passed through it, in order to leave as indistinct a 
trail as possible. On that evening he reached some 
of the tributaries of the Muskingum, where his naked 
and blistered skin attracted millions of mosquitoes, 
that followed him day and night, effectually prevented 
his sleeping, and carefully removed such particles of 
skin as the nettles had left, so that, if his own account 
is to be credited, upon reaching the Muskingum, which 
he did on the third day, he had been completely peeled 
from head to foot. Here he found a few wild rasp- 
berries, which was the first food he had tasted for four 
days. He had never felt hunger, but suffered much 
from faintness and exhaustion. He swam the Mus- 
kingum at Old Comer's town, and, looking back, thought 
that he put a great deal of ground between himself 
and 'the stake at which he had been bound near Waugh- 
cotomoco; and that it w T ould be very strange if, having 
been brought thus far, he should again fall into the 
power of the enemy. 

On the next day, he reached Stillwater, where he 
caught two crawfish, and devoured them raw. Two 
days afterward, he struck the Ohio Kiver immediately 
opposite Wheeling, and perceiving a man standing upon 
the island, he called to him, told him his name, and 
asked him to bring over a canoe for him. The fellow at 
first was very shy; but Slover having told the names of 
many officers and privates, who had accompanied the ex- 
pedition, he was at length persuaded to venture across, 
and the fugitive was safely transported to the Virginia 
shore, after an escape which has few parallels in real life, 
and which seems even to exceed the bounds of probable 
fiction. 



158 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 



CHAPTER VII. 

IN the present chapter, we shall notice several circum- 
stances in the order in which they occurred, none of 
which, singly, are of sufficient importance to occupy a 
chapter to themselves. In the autumn of 1779, a num- 
ber of keel-boats were ascending the Ohio under the 
command of Major Rodgers, and had advanced as far 
as the mouth of Licking without accident. Here, how- 
ever, they observed a few Indians, standing upon the 
southern extremity of a sand bar, while a canoe, rowed 
by three others, was in the act of putting off from the 
Kentucky shore, as if for the purpose of taking them 
aboard. Rodgers instantly ordered the boats to be 
made fast on the Kentucky shore, while the crew, to 
the number of seventy men, well armed, cautiously ad- 
vanced in such a manner as to encircle the spot where 
the enemy had been seen to land. Only five or six 
Indians had been seen, and no one dreamed of encoun- 
tering more than fifteen or twenty enemies. 

When Rodgers, however, had, as he supposed, com- 
pletely surrounded the enemy, and was preparing to 
rush upon them from several quarters at once, he was 
thunderstruck at beholding several hundred savages 
suddenly spring up in front, rear, and upon both flanks! 
They instantly poured in a close discharge of rifles, and 
then, throwing down their guns, fell upon the survivors 
with the tomahawk. The panic was complete and the 
slaughter prodigious. Major Rodgers, together with 
forty-five of his men, were almost instantly destroyed. 
The survivors made an effort to regain their boats, but 
the five men who had been left in charge of them had 
immediately put off from shore in the hindmost boat, 
and the enemy had already gained possession of the 



ROBERT BENHAM. 159 

others. Disappointed in the attempt, they turned fu- 
riously upon the enemy, and, aided by the approach of 
darkness, forced their way through their lines, and with 
the loss of several severely wounded, at length effected 
their escape to Harrodsburg. 

Among the wounded was Captain Robert Benham. 
Shortly after breaking through the enemy's line, he was 
shot through both hips, and, the bones being shattered, 
he instantly fell to the ground. Fortunately, a large 
tree had lately fallen near the spot where he lay, and 
with great pain, he dragged himself into the top, and lay 
concealed among the branches. The Indians, eager in 
pursuit of the others, passed him without notice, and 
by midnight all was quiet. On the following day, 
the Indians returned to the battle-ground, in order to 
strip the dead and take care of the boats. Benham, 
although in danger of famishing, permitted them to 
pass without making known his condition, very correctly 
supposing that his crippled legs would only induce them 
to tomahawk him upon the spot, in order to avoid the 
trouble of carrying him to their town. 

He lay close, therefore, until the evening of the 
second day, when, perceiving a raccoon descending a 
tree near him, he shot it, hoping to devise some means 
of reaching it, when he could kindle a fire and make 
a meal. Scarcely had his gun cracked, however, when 
he heard a human cry, apparently not more than fifty 
yards off. Supposing it to be an Indian, he hastily 
reloaded his gun, and remained silent, expecting the 
approach of an enemy. Presently the same voice was 
heard again, but much nearer. Still Benham made 
no reply, but cocked his gun, and sat ready to fire as 
soon as an object appeared. A third halloo was quickly 
heard, followed by an exclamation of impatience and 
distress, which convinced Benham that the unknown 
must be a Kentuckian. As soon, therefore, as he heard 
the expression, " Whoever you are, for God's sake, an- 
swer me ! " he replied with readiness, and the parties 
were soon together. 

Benham, as we have already observed, was shot through 
both legs. The man who now appeared had escaped 



160 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

from the same battle, ivith both arms broken! Thus each 
was enabled to supply what the other wanted. Ben- 
ham, having the perfect use of his arms, could load his 
gun and kill game with great readiness, while his 
friend, having the use of his legs, could kick the game 
to the spot where Benham sat, who was thus enabled 
to cook it. When no wood was near them, his com- 
panion would rake up brush with his feet, and gradu- 
ally roll it within reach of Benham's hands, who con- 
stantly fed his companion, and dressed his wounds as 
well as his own — tearing up both of their shirts for that 
purpose. They found some difficulty in procuring water 
at first; but Benham, at length, took his own hat, and 
placing the rim between the teeth of his companion, 
directed him to wade into the Licking up to his neck, 
and dip the hat into the water by sinking his own 
head. The man who could walk was thus enabled to 
bring water, by means of his teeth, which Benham could 
afterward dispose of as was necessary. 

In a few days, they had killed all the squirrels and 
birds within reach, and the man with the broken arms 
was sent out to drive game within gunshot of the spot 
to which Benham was confined. Fortunately, wild 
turkeys were abundant in those woods, and his compan- 
ion would walk around and drive them toward Benham, 
who seldom failed to kill two or three of each flock. In 
this manner they supported themselves for several 
weeks, until their wounds had healed so as to enable 
them to travel. They then shifted their quarters, and 
put up a small shed at the mouth of the Licking, where 
they encamped until late in November, anxiously ex- 
pecting the arrival of some boat which should convey 
them to the Falls of Ohio. 

On the twenty-seventh of November, they observed a 
flat-boat moving leisurely down the river. Benham 
instantly hoisted his hat upon a stick and hallooed loudly 
for help. The crew, however, supposing them to be 
Indians — at least suspecting them of an attempt to de- 
coy them ashore — paid no attention to their signals of 
distress, but instantly put over to the opposite side of 
the river, and, manning every oar, endeavored to pass 



ALEXANDER McCOXXEL. 161 

them as rapidly as possible. Benham beheld them 
pass him with a sensation bordering on despair; for 
the place was much frequented by Indians, and the ap- 
proach of winter threatened them with destruction un- 
less speedily relieved. At length, after the boat had 
passed him nearly half a mile, he saw a canoe put off 
from its stern, and cautiously approach the Kentucky 
shore, evidently reconnoitering them with great suspicion. 

He called loudly upon them for assistance, mentioned 
his name, and made known his condition. After a 
long parley, and many evidences of reluctance on the 
part of the crew, the canoe at length touched the shore, 
and Benham and his friend were taken on board. 
Their appearance excited much suspicion. They were 
almost entirely naked, and their faces were garnished 
with six weeks' growth of beard. The one was barely 
able to hobble upon crutches, and the other could 
manage to feed himself with one of his hands. They 
were instantly taken to Louisville, where their clothes 
(which had been carried off in the boat which deserted 
them) were restored to them, and after a few weeks 
confinement, both were perfectly restored. 

Benham afterward served in the North-west through- 
out the whole of the Indian war, accompanied the ex- 
peditions of Harmer and Wilkinson, shared in the dis- 
aster of St. Clair, and afterward in the triumph of 
Wayne. Upon the return of peace, he bought the 
land upon which Rodgers had been defeated, and 
ended his days in tranquillity, amid the scenes which 
had witnessed his sufferinos. 



Early in the spring of 1780, Mr. Alexander Mc- 
Conxel, of Lexington, Ky., went into the woods on 
foot, to hunt deer. He soon killed a large buck, and 
returned home for a horse, in order to bring it in. 
During his absence, a party of five Indians, on one 
of their usual skulking expeditions, accidentally stum- 
bled on the body of the deer, and perceiving that it had 
been recently killed, they naturally supposed that the 
hunter would speedily return to secure the flesh. 



162 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

Three of them, therefore, took their stations within 
close rifle shot of the deer, while the other two fol- 
lowed the trail of the hunter, and waylaid the path 
by which he was expected to return. McConnel, ex- 
pecting no danger, rode carelessly along the path which 
the two scouts were watching, until he had come 
within view of the deer, when he was fired upon by the 
whole party, and his horse killed. While laboring to 
extricate himself from the dying animal, he was seized 
by his enemies, instantly overpowered, and borne off 
as a prisoner. 

His captors, however, seemed to be a merry, good- 
natured set of fellows, and permitted him to accom- 
pany them unbound ; and, what was rather extraordi- 
nary, allowed him to retain his gun and hunting ac- 
couterments. He accompanied them with great appar- 
ant cheerfulness through the day, and displayed his 
dexterity in shooting deer for the use of the company, 
until they began to regard him with great partiality. 
Having traveled with them in this manner for several 
days, they at length reached the banks of the Ohio 
River. Heretofore, the Indians had taken the precau- 
tion to bind him at night, although not very securely; 
but on that evening, he remonstrated with them on the 
subject, and complained so strongly of the pain which 
the cords gave him, that they merely wrapped the buf- 
falo tug loosely around his wrists, and having tied it 
in an easy knot, and attached the extremities of the 
rope to their ow r n bodies, in order to prevent his mov- 
ing without awakening them, they very composedly 
went to sleep, leaving the prisoner to follow their ex- 
ample or not, as he pleased. 

McConnel determined to effect his escape that night, 
if possible, as on the following night they would cross 
the river, which would render it much more difficult. 
He, therefore, lay quietly until near midnight, anx- 
iously ruminating upon the best means of effecting his 
object. Accidentally casting his eyes in the direclion 
of his feet, they fell upon the glittering blade of a 
knife, which had escaped its sheath, and was now lying 
near the feet of one of the Indians. To reach it with 



ALEXANDER McCONNEL. 163 

his hands, without disturbing the two Indians, to whom 
he was fastened, was impossible, and it was very haz- 
ardous to attempt to draw it up with his feet. This, 
however, he attempted. With much difficulty he 
grasped the blade between his toes, and after repeated 
and long-continued efforts, succeeded at length in bring- 
ing it within reach of his hands. 

To cut his cords, was then but the work of a mo- 
ment, and gradually and silently extricating his person 
from the arms of the Indians, he walked to the fire 
and sat down. He saw that his work was but half 
done; that if he should attempt to return home, with- 
out destroying his enemies, he would assuredly be pur- 
sued and probably overtaken, when his fate would be 
certain. On the other hand, it seemed almost impossi- 
ble for a single man to succeed in a conflict with five 
Indians, even although unarmed and asleep. He could 
not hope to deal a blow with his knife so silently and 
fatally, as to destroy each one of his enemies in turn, 
without awakening the rest. Their slumbers were pro- 
verbially light and restless; and if he failed with a 
single one, he must instantly be overpowered by the 
survivors. The knife, therefore, was out of the ques- 
tion. 

After anxious reflection for a few minutes, he formed 
his plan. The guns of the Indians were stacked near 
the fire ; their knives and tomahawks were in sheaths 
by their sides. The latter he dared not touch for fear 
of awakening their owners ; but the former he care- 
fully removed, with the exception of two, and hid them 
in the woods, where he knew the Indians would not 
readily find them. He then returned to the spot 
where the Indians were still sleeping, perfectly igno- 
rant of the fate preparing for them, and taking a gun 
in each hand, he rested the muzzles upon a log within 
six feet of his victims, and having taken deliberate 
aim at the head of one and the heart of another, he 
pulled both triggers at the same moment. 

Both shots were fatal. At the report of their guns 
•the others sprung to their feet, and stared wildly 
around them. McConnel, who had run instantly to 



164 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

the spot where the other rifles were hid, hastily seized 
one of them and fired at two of his enemies, who hap- 
pened to stand in a line with each other. The nearest 
fell dead, being shot through the center of the body; 
the second fell also, bellowing loudly, but quickly re- 
covering, limped off into the woods as fast as possible. 
The fifth, and only one who remained unhurt, darted 
oft" like a deer, with a yell which announced equal 
terror and astonishment. McConnel, not wishing to 
fight any more such battles, selected his own rifle from 
the stack, and made the best of his way to Lexington, 
where he arrived safely within two days. 

Shortly afterward, Mrs. Dunlap, of Fayette, who 
had been several months a prisoner amongst the In- 
dians on Mad River, made her escape, and returned to 
Lexington. Siie reported that the survivor returned 
to his tribe with a lamentable tale. He related that 
they had taken a fine young hunter near Lexington, 
and had brought him safely as far as the Ohio ; that 
while encamped up >n the bank of the river, a large 
party of white men had fallen upon them in the night, 
and killed all his companions, together with the poor, 
defenseless prisoner, who lay bound hand and foot, 
unable either to escape or resist! 



Early in May, 1781, McAfee's Station, in the neigh- 
borhood of Harrodsburgh, was alarmed. On the 
morning of the ninth, Samuel McAfee, accompanied 
by another man, left the fort in order to visit a small 
plantation in the neighborhood, and at the distance of 
three hundred yards from the gate, they were fired 
upon by a party of Indians in ambush. The man 
who accompanied him instantly fell, and McAfee at- 
tempted to regain the fort. While running rapidly for 
that purpose, he found himself suddenly intercepted 
by an Indian, who, springing out of the canebrake, 
planted himself directly in his path. There was no 
time for compliments. Each glared upon the other 
for an instant in silence, and both raising their guns 



SAMUEL AXD ROBERT McAFEE. 165 

at the same moment, pulled the triggers together. 
The Indian's rifle snapped, while McAfee's ball passed 
directly through his brain. Having no time to reload 
his gun, he sprang over the body of his antagonist, 
and continued his flight to the fort. 

When within one hundred yards of the gate, he was 
met by his two brothers, Robert and James, who, 
at the report of the guns, had hurried out to the assist- 
ance of their brother. Samuel hastily informed them 
of their danger, and exhorted them instantly to return. 
James readily complied, but Robert, deaf to all re- 
monstrances, declared that he must have a view of the 
dead Indian. He ran on, for that purpose, and having 
regaled himself with that spectacle, was hastily return- 
ing by the same path, when he saw 7 five or six Indians 
between him and the fort, evidently bent upon taking 
him alive. All his activity and presence of mind was 
now put in requisition. He ran rapidly from tree to 
tree, endeavoring to turn their flank, and reach one 
of the gates, and after a variety of turns and doub- 
lings in the thick wood, he found himself pressed by 
only one Indian. McAfee, hastily throwing himself 
behind a fence, turned upon his pursuer, and com- 
pelled him to take shelter behind a tree. 

Both stood still for a moment, McAfee having his 
gun cocked, and the sight fixed upon the tree, at the 
spot where he supposed the Indian would thrust out 
his head in order to have a view of his antagonist. 
After waiting a few seconds he was gratified. The 
Indian slowly and cautiously exposed a part of his 
head, and began to elevate his rifle. As soon as a 
sufficient mark presented itself McAfee fired, and the 
Indian fell. While turning, in order to continue his 
flight, he was fired on by a party of six, which com- 
pelled him again to tree. But scarcely had he done 
so, when, from the opposite quarter he received the fire 
of three more enemies, which made the bark fly around 
him, and knocked up the dust about his feet. Think- 
ing his post rather too hot for safety, he neglected all 
shelter, and ran directly for the fort, which, in de- 
fiance of all opposition, he reached in safety, to the 



166 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

inexpressible joy of his brothers, who had despaired 
of his return. 

The Indians now opened a heavy fire upon the fort, 
in their usual manner ; but finding e^ery effort useless, 
they hastily decamped, without any loss beyond the 
two who had fallen by the hands of the brothers, and 
without having inflicted any upon the garrison. 
Within half an hour, Major McGary brought up a 
party from HamxUburg at full gallop, and uniting 
with the garrison, pursued the enemy with all possible 
activity. They soon overtook them, and a sharp 
action ensued. The Indians were routed in a few 
minutes, with the loss of six warriors left dead upon 
the ground, and many others wounded, who, as usual, 
were borne off. The pursuit was continued for several 
miles, but from the thickness of the woods, and the 
extreme activity and address of the enemy, was not 
very effectual. McGary lost one man dead upon the 
spot, and another mortally wounded. 






About the same time, Bryant's Station was much 
harassed by small parties of the enemy. This, as we 
have already remarked, was a frontier post, and gen- 
erally received the brunt of Indian hostility. It had 
been settled in 1779 by four brothers from North 
Carolina, one of whom, William, had married a sister 
of Colonel Daniel Boone. The Indians were con- 
stantly lurking in the neighborhood, waylaying the 
paths, stealing their horses, and butchering their cat- 
tle. It at length became necessary to hunt in parties 
of twenty or thirty men, so as to be able to meet and 
repel those attacks, which were every day becoming 
more bold and frequent. 

One afternoon, about the twentieth of May, 
William Bryant, accompanied by twenty men, left 
the fort on a hunting expedition down the Elkhorn 
Creek. They moved with caution, until they had 
passed all the points where ambuscades had generally 
been formed, when, seeing no enemy, they became more 
bold, and determined, in order to sweep a large extent 



BRYANT AND HOGAN. 167 

of country, to divide their company into two parties. 
One of them, conducted by Bryant in person, was to 
descend the Elkhorn on its southern bank, flanking 
out largely, and occupy as much ground as possible. 
The other, under the orders of James Hogan, a 
young farmer in good circumstances, was to move 
down in a parallel line upon the north bank. The 
two parties were to meet at night, and encamp together 
at the mouth of Cane Run. 

Each punctually performed the first part of their 
plans. Hogan, however, had traveled but a few hun- 
dred yards, when he heard a loud voice behind him 
exclaim, in very good English, " Stop, boys ! " Hastily 
looking back, they saw several Indians, on foot, pur- 
suing them as rapidly as possible. Without halting 
to count numbers, the party put spurs to their horses, 
and dashed through the woods at full speed, the In- 
dians keeping close behind them, and at times gaining 
upon them. There was a led horse in company, which 
had been brought with them for the purpose of pack- 
ing game. This was instantly abandoned, and fell into 
the hands of the Indians. Several of them lost their 
hats in the eagerness of flight; but quickly getting into 
the open woods, they left their pursuers so far behind, 
that they had leisure to breathe, and inquire of each 
other whether it was worth while to kill their horses 
before they had ascertained the number of the enemy. 

They quickly determined to cross the creek, and await 
the approach of the Indians. If they found them 
superior to their own and Bryant's party united, they 
would immediately return to the fort; as, by continuing 
their march to the mouth of Cane Run, they would 
bring a superior enemy upon their friends, and endanger 
the lives of the whole party. They accordingly crossed 
the creek, dismounted, and awaited the approach of the 
enemy. By this time it had become dark. The Indians 
were distinctly heard approaching the creek upon the 
opposite side, and, after a short halt, a solitary warrior 
descended the bank, and began to wade through the 
stream. 

Hogan waited until he had emerged from the gloom 
16 



168 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

of the trees which grew upon the bank, and as soon as 
he had reached the middle of the stream, where the light 
was more distinct, he took deliberate aim and fired. A 
great splashing in the water was heard, but presently 
all became quiet. The pursuit was discontinued, and 
the party, remounting their horses, returned home. 
Anxious, however, to apprise Bryant's party of their 
danger, they left the fort before daylight on the ensuing 
morning, and rode rapidly down the creek, in the 
direction of the mouth of Cane. When within a few 
hundred yards of the spot where they supposed the en- 
campment to be, they heard the report of many guns in 
quick succession, Supposing that Bryant had fallen in 
with a herd of buffalo, they quickened their march, in 
order to take part in the sport. 

The morning* was foggy, and the smoke of the guns 
lay so heavily upon the ground that they could see 
nothing until they had approached within twenty yards 
of the creek, when they suddenly found themselves 
within pistol-shot of a party of Indians, very com- 
posedly seated upon their packs, and preparing their 
pipes. Both parties were much startled, but quickly 
recovering, they sheltered themselves as usual, and the 
action opened with great vivacity. The Indians main- 
tained their ground for half an hour with some firm- 
ness, but being hard pressed in front, and turned in 
flank, they at length gave way, and being closely pur- 
sued, were ultimately routed, with considerable loss, 
which, however, could not be distinctly ascertained. 
Of Hogan's party, one man was killed on the spot, and 
three others wounded, none mortally. 
„ It happened that Bryant's company had encamped at 
the mouth of Cane, as had been agreed upon, and were 
unable to account for Hogan's absence. That, about 
daylight, they had heard a bell at a distance, which 
they immediately recognized as the one belonging to the 
led horse which had accompanied Hogan's party, and 
which, as w r e have seen, had been abandoned to the 
enemy the evening before. Supposing their friends to 
be bewildered in the fog, and unable to find their camp, 
Bryant, accompanied by Grant, one of his men, mounted 



Mckinley. 169 

a horse, and rode to the spot where the bell was still 
ringing. They quickly fell into an ambuscade, and 
were fired upon. Bryant was mortally, and Grant 
severely wounded, the first being shot through the hip 
and both knees, the latter through the back. 

Being both able to keep the saddle, however, they 
set spurs to their horses, and arrived 'at the station 
shortly alter breakfast. The Indians, in the meantime, 
had fallen upon the encampment, and instantly dis- 
persed it; and, while preparing to regale themselves 
after their victory, were suddenly attacked, as we have 
seen, by Hogan. The timidity of Hogan's party, at 
the first appearance of the Indians, was the cause of 
the death of Bryant. The same men who fled so hastily 
in the evening, were able the next morning, by a little 
firmness, to vanquish the same party of Indians. Had 
they stood at first, an equal success would probably 
have attended them, and the life of their leader would 
have been preserved. 



We have now to notice an adventure of a different 
kind, and which, from its singularity, is entitled to a 
place in our pages. In 1783, Lexington was only a 
cluster of cabins, one of which, near the spot where the 
court-house now stands, was used as a school-house. 
One morning in May, McKinney, the teacher, was 
sitting alone at his desk, busily engaged in writing, 
when, hearing a slight noise at the door, he turned his 
head and beheld — what do you suppose, reader? A tall 
Indian in his war paint, brandishing his tomahawk or 
handling his knife? No! an enormous cat, with her 
forefeet upon the step of the door, her tail curled over 
her back, her bristles erect, and her eyes glancing 
rapidly through the room, as if in search of a mouse. 

McKinney's position at first completely concealed him, 
but a slight and involuntary motion of his chair, at 
sight of this shaggy inhabitant of the forest, attracted 
puss's attention, and their eyes met. McKinney, having 
heard much of the power of " the human face divine," 
in quelling the audacity of wild animals, attempted to 






170 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

disconcert the intruder by a frown. But puss was not 
to be bullied. Her eyes flashed fire, her tail waved 
angrily, and she began to gnash her teeth, evidently 
bent upon serious hostility. Seeing his danger, McKin- 
ney hastily arose and attempted to snatch a cylindrical 
rule from a table which stood within reach, but the 
cat was too quick for him. 

Darting upon him with the proverbial activity of her 
tribe, she fastened upon his side with her teeth, and 
began to lend and tear with her claws like a fury. 
McKinney's clothes were, in an instant, torn from his 
side, and his flesh dreadfully mangled by the enraged 
animal, whose strength and ferocity filled him with 
astonishment. He in vain .attempted to disengage her 
from his side. Her long sharp teeth were fastened be- 
tween his ribs, and his efforts served but to enrage 
her the more Seeing his blood flow very copiously 
from the numerous wounds in his side, he became 
seriously alarmed, and not knowing what else to do, he 
threw himself upon the edge of the table, and pressed 
her against the sharp corner with the whole weight of 
his body. 

The cat now began to utter the most wild and dis- 
cordant cries, and McKinney at the same time lifting 
up his voice in concert, the two together sent forth 
notes so doleful as to alarm the whole town. Women, 
who are always the first in hearing or spreading news, 
were now the first to come to McKinney's assistance. 
But so strange and unearthly was the harmony within 
the school-house, that they hesitated long before they 
ventured to enter. At length the boldest of them 
rushed in, and seeing McKinney bending over the cor- 
ner of the table, and writhing his body as if in great 
pain, she at first supposed that he was laboring under a 
severe fit of the colic; but quickly perceiving the cat, 
which was now in the agonies of death, she screamed 
out, " Why, good heaven! Mr. McKinney, what is the 
matter?" 

" I have caught a cat, madam ! " replied he, gravely 
turning around, while the sweat streamed from his face, 
under the mingled operation of fright, and fatigue, and 



DAVID MORGAN. 171 

agony. Most of the neighbors had now arrived, and 
attempted to disengage the dead cat from her antago- 
nist ; but so firmly were her tusks locked between his 
ribs, that this was a work of no small difficulty. 
Scarcely had it been effected, when McKinney became 
very sick, and was compelled to go to bed. In a few 
days, however, he had totally recovered, and so late as 
1820 was alive, and a resident of Bourbon County, Ky., 
where he was often heard to affirm, that he, at any time, 
had rather fight two Indians than one wild cat. 



About the same time, a conflict more unequal, and 
equally remarkable, took place in another part of the 
country. David Morgan, a relation of the celebrated 
General Daniel Morgan, had settled upon the Mononga- 
hela during the earlier period of the Revolutionary war, 
and at this time had ventured to occupy a cabin at the 
distance of several miles from any settlement. One 
morning, having sent his younger children out to a field, 
at a considerable distance from the house, he became 
uneasy about them, and repaired to the spot where they 
were working, armed, as usual, with a good rifle. While 
sitting upon the fence, and giving some directions as to 
their work, he observed two Indians upon the other side 
of the field, gazing earnestly upon the party. He in- 
stantly called to the children to make their escape, while 
he should attempt to cover their retreat. 

The odds were greatly against him, as, in addition to 
other circumstances, he was nearly seventy years of 
age, and, of course, unable to contend with his enemies 
in running. The house was more than a mile distant, 
but the children, having two hundred yards the start, 
and being effectually covered by their father, were soon 
so far in front that the Indians turned their attention 
entirely to the old man. He ran, for several hundred 
yards, with an activity which astonished himself, but 
perceiving that he would be overtaken long before he 
could reach his home, he fairly turned at bay, and pre- 
pared for a strenuous resistance. The woods, through 
which they were running, were very thin, and consisted 



172 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

almost entirely of small trees, behind which it was 
difficult to obtain proper shelter. 

When Morgan adopted the above-mentioned resolu- 
tion, he had just passed a large walnut, which stood like 
a patriarch among the saplings which surrounded it, 
and it became necessary to run back about ten steps in 
order to regain it. The Indians became startled at the 
sudden advance of the fugitive, and were compelled 
to halt among a cluster of saplings, where they anx- 
iously strove to shelter themselves. This, however, was 
impossible; and Morgan, who was an excellent marks- 
man, saw enough of the person of one of them to justify 
him in risking a shot. His enemy instantly fell, mor- 
tally wounded. The other Indian, taking advantage 
of Morgan's empty gun, sprung from his shelter and 
advanced rapidly upon him. The old man, having no 
time to reload his gun, was compelled to fly a second 
time. The Indian gained rapidly upon him, and when 
within twenty steps, fired, but with so unsteady an aim 
that Morgan was totally unhurt, the ball having passed 
over his shoulder. 

He now again stood at bay, clubbing his rifle for a 
blow; while the Indian, dropping his empty gun, bran- 
dished his tomahawk and prepared to throw it at his 
enemy. Morgan struck with the butt of his gun and 
the Indian whirled his tomahawk at one and the same 
moment. Both blows took effect, and both were at 
once wounded and disarmed. The breech of the rifle 
was broken against the Indian's skull, and the edge of 
the tomahawk was shattered against the barrel of the 
rifle, having first cut off two of the fingers of Morgan's 
left hand. The Indian then attempting to draw his 
knife, Morgan grappled him and bore him to the ground. 
A furfous struggle ensued, in which the old man's 
strength failed, and the Indian succeeded in turning 
him. 

Planting his knee in the breast of his enemy, and 
yelling loudly, as is usual with them upon any turn of 
fortune, he again felt for his knife, in order to terminate 
the struggle at once ; but having lately stolen a woman's 
apron, and tied it around his waist, his knife was so 



DAVID MORGAN. 173 

much confined that he had great difficulty in finding 
the handle. Morgan, in the meantime, being a regular 
pugilist, according to the custom of Virginia, and per- 
fectly at home in a ground struggle, took advantage of 
the awkwardness of the Indian, and got one of the fin- 
gers of his right hand between his teeth. The Indian 
tugged and roared in vain, struggling to extricate it. 
Morgan held him fast, and began to assist him in hunt- 
ing for the knife. Each seized it at the same moment, 
the Indian by the blade and Morgan by the handle, but 
with a very slight hold. 

The Indian, having the firmest hold, began to draw 
the knife further out of its sheath, when Morgan, sud- 
denly giving his finger a furious bite, twitched the 
knife dexterously through his hand, cutting it severely. 
Both now sprang to their feet, Morgan brandishing 
his adversary's knife, and still holding his finger be- 
tween his teeth. In vain the poor Indian struggled to 
get away, rearing, plunging, and bolting, like an un- 
broken colt. The teeth of the white man were like a 
vise, and he at length succeeded in giving him a stab 
in the side. The Indian received it without falling, the 
knife having struck his ribs; but a second blow, aimed 
at the stomach, proved more effectual, and the savage 
fell. Morgan thrust the knife, handle and all, into the 
cavity of the body, directed it upward, and starting to 
his feet, made the best of his way home. 

The neighborhood was quickly alarmed; and, hur- 
rying to the spot where the struggle had taken place, 
they found the first Indian lying where he had fallen, 
but the second had disappeared. A broad trail of blood, 
however, conducted to a fallen tree-top, within one 
hundred yards of the spot, into which the poor fellow 
had dragged himself, and where he now lay bleeding, 
but still alive. He had plucked the knife from his 
wound, and was endeavoring to dress it with the stolen 
apron — which had cost him his life — when his enemies 
approached. The love of life appeared still strong within 
him, however. He greeted them with what was in- 
tended for an insinuating smile, held out his hand and 
exclaimed, in broken English, "How de do, broder? 



174 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

howdedo? Glad to see you!" But, poor fellow! the 
love was all on his side. Their brotherhood extended 
only to tomahawking, scalping, and skinning him, all of 
which operations were performed within a few minutes 
after the meeting. To such an extent had mutual in- 
jury inflamed both parties. 



About the middle of July, 1782, seven Wyandotts 
crossed the Ohio a few miles above Wheeling, and com- 
mitted great depredations upon the southern shore, 
killing an old man whom they found alone in his cabin, 
and spreading terror throughout the neighborhood. 
Within a few hours after their retreat, eight men as- 
sembled from different parts of the small settlement, 
and pursued the enemy with great expedition. Among 
the most active and efficient of the party were two 
brothers, Andrew and Adam Poe. Andrew was par- 
ticularly popular. In strength, action, and hardihood, 
he had no equal, being finely formed, and inured to all 
the perils of the woods. They had not followed the 
trail far before they became satisfied that the depredators 
were conducted by Big Foot, a renowmed chief of the 
Wyandott tribe, who derived his name from the im- 
mense size of his feet. 

His height considerably exceeded six feet, and his 
strength was represented as Herculean. He had also 
five brothers, but little inferior to himself in size and 
courage, and as they generally went in company, they 
were the terror of the whole country. Andrew Poe was 
overjoyed at the idea of measuring his strength with 
that of so celebrated a chief, and urged the pursuit 
with a keenness which quickly brought him into the vi- 
cinity of the enemy. For the last few miles, the trail 
had led them up the southern bank of the Ohio, where 
the foot-prints in the sand were deep and obvious ; but 
when within a few hundred yards of the point at which 
the whites as well as the Indians were in the habit of 
crossing, it suddenly diverged from the stream and 
stretched along a rocky ridge, forming an obtuse an- 
gle with its former direction. # 
Here Andrew halted for a moment and directed his 



AXDSEW POE. 175 

brother and the other young men to follow the trail with 
proper caution, while he himself still adhered to the 
river path, which led through clusters of willows directly 
to the point where he supposed the enemy to lie. Hav- 
ing examined the priming of his gun, he crept cau- 
tiously through the bushes, until he had a view of the 
point of embarkation. Here lay two canoes, empty and 
apparently deserted. Being satisfied, however, that the 
Indians were close at hand, he relaxed nothing of his 
vigilance, and quickly gained a jutting cliff, which hung 
immediately over the canoes. Hearing a low murmur 
below, he peered cautiously over, and beheld the object 
of his search. The gigantic Big Foot lay below him, 
in the shade of a willow, and was talking in a low, deep 
tone to another warrior, who seemed a mere pigmy by 
his side. 

Andrew cautiously drew back and cocked his gun. 
The mark was fair, the distance did not exceed twenty 
feet, and his aim was unerring. Raising his rifle slowly 
and cautiously, he took a steady aim at Big Foot's breast 
and drew the trigger. His gun flashed. Both Indians 
sprang to their feet with a deep interjection of surprise, 
and for a single second, all three stared upon each other. 
This inactivity, however, was soon over. Andrew was 
too much hampered by the bushes to retreat, and, set- 
ting his life upon a cast of the die, he sprung over the 
bush which had sheltered him, and, summoning all his 
powers, leaped boldly down the precipice and alighted 
upon the breast of Big Foot with a shock that bore 
him to the earth. 

At the moment of contact, Andrew had also thrown 
his right arm around the neck of the smaller Indian, 
so that all three came to the earth together. At that 
moment a sharp firing was heard among the bushes 
above, announcing that the other parties were engaged ; 
but the trio below were too busy to attend to an\ T thing 
but themselves. Big Foot was for an instant stunned by 
the violence of the shock, and Andrew was enabled to 
keep them both down. But the exertion necessary for 
that purpose was so great that he had no leisure to use 
his knife. Big Foot quickly recovered, and, without 
17 



176 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

attempting to rise, wrapped his long arms around 
Andrew's body, and pressed him to his breast with 
the crushing force of a boa-constrictor. Andrew, as 
we have already remarked, was a powerful man, and 
had seldom encountered his equal ; but never had he 
yet felt an embrace like that of Big Foot. 

He instantly relaxed his hold of the small Indian, 
who sprang to his feet. Big Foot then ordered him 
to run for his tomahawk, which lay within ten steps, 
and kill the white man, while he held him in his arms. 
Andrew, seeing his danger, struggled manfully to extri- 
cate himself from the folds of the giant, but in vain. 
The lesser Indian approached with his uplifted toma- 
hawk, but Andrew watched him closely, and as he was 
about to strike, gave him a kick so sudden and violent 
as to knock the tomahawk from his hand, and send him 
staggering back into the water. Big Foot uttered an 
exclamation in a tone of deep contempt at the failure 
of his companion, and raising his voice to its highest 
pitch, thundered out several words in the Indian tongue, 
which Andrew could not understand, but supposed to be 
a direction for a second attack. 

The lesser Indian now again approached, carefully 
shunning Andrew's heel-, and making many motions 
with his tomahawk, in order to deceive him as to the 
point where the dIoav would fall. This lasted for sev- 
eral seconds, until a thundering exclamation from Big 
Foot compelled his companion to strike. Such was 
Andrew's dexterity and vigilance, however, that he man- 
aged to received the tomahawk in a glancing direction 
upon his left wrist, wounding him deeply, but not dis- 
abling him. He now made a sudden and desperate 
effort to free himself from the arms of the giant, and 
succeeded. Instantly snatching up a rifle (for the In- 
dian could not venture to shoot for fear of hurting his 
companion), he shot the lesser Indian through the body. 

But scarcely had he done so, when Big Foot arose, 
and placing one hand upon his collar and the other 
upon his hip, pitched him ten feet into the air, as he 
himself would have pitched a child. Andrew fell upon 
his back at the edge of the water, but before his an- 



ANDREW POE. Ill 

tagonist could spring upon him, he was again upon his 
feet; and stung with rage at the idea of being handled 
so easily, be attacked his gigantic antagonist with a 
fury which for a time compensated for inferiority of 
strength. It was now a fair fist fight between them, 
for in the hurry of the struggle neither had leisure to 
draw their knives. Andrew's superior activity and ex- 
perience as a pugilist, gave him great advantage. The 
Indian struck awkwardly, and rinding himself rapidly 
dropping to leeward, he closed with his antagonist, and 
again hurled him to the ground. 

They quickly rolled into the river, and the struggle 
continued with unabated fury, each attempting to 
drown the other. The Indian being unused to such 
violent exertion, and having been much injured by the 
first shock in his stomach, was unable to exert the same 
powers which had given him such a decided superiority 
at first; and, Andrew seizing him by the scalp-lock, 
put his head under water, and held it there, until 
the faint struggles of the Indian induced him to be- 
lieve that he was drowned, when he relaxed his hold 
and attempted to draw his knife. The Indian, how- 
ever, to use Andrew's own expression, "had only been 
possuming ! " 

He instantly regained his feet, and in his turn put 
his adversary under. In the struggle both were carried 
out into the current, beyond their depth, and each was 
compelled to relax his hold and swim for his life. 
There was still one loaded rifle upon the shore, and 
each swam hard in order to reach it, but the Indian 
proved the most expert swimmer, and Andrew seeing 
that he should be too late, turned and swam out into 
the stream, intending to dive and thus frustrate his 
enemy's intention. At this instant, Adam, having 
heard that his brother was alone in a struggle with 
two Indians, and in great danger, ran up hastily to 
the edge of the bank above, in order to assist him. 
Another white man followed him closely, and seeing 
Andrew in the river, covered w T ith blood, and swimming 
rapidly from shore, mistook him for an Indian and fired 
upon him, w r ounding him dangerously in the shoulder. 



178 WESTERN AD VENT URE. 

Andrew turned, and seeing his brother, called loudly 
upou him to "shoot the big Indian upon the shore." 
Adam's gun, however, was empty, having just been 
discharged. Fortunately, Big Foot had also seized the 
gun with which Andrew had shot the lesser Indian, so 
that both were upon an equality. The contest now 
was who should load first. Big Foot poured in his 
powder first, and drawing his ramrod out of its sheath 
in too great a hurry, threw it into the river, and while 
he ran to recover it, Adam gained an advantage. 
Still, the Indian was but a second too late, for his 
gun was at his shoulder, when Adam's ball entered 
his breast. The gun dropped from his hands, and he 
fell forward upon his face upon the very margin of 
the river. 

Adam, now alarmed for his brother, who was scarcely 
able to swim, threw down his gun and rushed into the 
river in order to bring him ashore; but Andrew, more 
intent upon securing the scalp of Big Foot as a 
trophy, than upon his own safety, called loudly upon 
his brother to leave him alone and scalp the big In- 
dian, who was now endeavoring to roll himself into 
the water, from a romantic desire, peculiar to the Indian 
warrior, of securing his scalp from the enemy. Adam, 
however, refused to obey, and insisted upon saving the 
living, before attending to the dead. Big Foot, in the 
meantime, had succeeded in reaching the deep water 
before he expired, and his body was borne off by the 
waves, without being stripped of the ornament and 
pride of an Indian warrior. 

Not a man of the Indians had escaped. Five of 
Big Foot : s brothers, the flower of the Wyandott na- 
tion, had accompanied him in the expedition, and all 
perished. It is said that the news of this calamity 
threw the whole tribe into mourning. Their remarka- 
ble size, their courage, and their superior intelligence, 
gave them immense influence, which, greatly to their 
credit, was generally exerted on the side of humanity. 
Their powerful interposition had saved many prisoners 
from the stake, and had given a milder character to the 
warfare of the Indians in that part of the country. A 



ANDREW FOE. 179 

chief of the same name was alive in that part of the 
country so late as 1792, but whether a brother or son 
of Big Foot, is not known. Andrew Poe recovered of 
his wounds, and lived many years after his memorable 
conflict; but never forgot the tremendous "hug" which 
he sustained in the arms of Big Foot. 



180 WE/STERN ADVENTURE. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

THE present, like the preceding chapter, will be de- 
voted to miscellaneous items of intelligence, ar- 
ranged in chronological order. About the middle of the 
summer of 1792, a gentleman named Woods, impru- 
dently removed from the neighborhood of a station, and 
for the benefit of his stock, settled on a lonely heath, 
near Beargrass. One morning he left his family, con- 
sisting of a wife, a daughter not yet grown, and a lame 
negro man, and rode off to the nearest station, not ex- 
pecting to return until night. Mrs. Woods, while en- 
gaged in her dairy, was alarmed at seeing several In- 
dians rapidly approaching the house. She instantly 
screamed loudly in order to give the alarm, and ran 
with her utmost speed, in order to reach the house be- 
fore them. In this she succeeded, but had not time to 
close the door until the foremost Indian had forced his 
way into the house. As soon as he entered, the lame 
negro grappled him and attempted to throw him upon 
the floor, but was himself hurled to the ground with 
violence, the Indian falling upon him. 

Mrs. Woods was too busily engaged in keeping the 
door closed against the party without, to attend to the 
combatants, but the lame negro, holding the Indian in 
his arms, called to the young girl to cut his head off 
with a very sharp ax which lay under the bed. She 
attempted to obey, but struck with so trembling a hand 
that the blow was ineffectual. Repeating her efforts 
under the direction of the negro, however, she at length 
wounded the Indian so badly, that the negro was en- 
abled to arise and complete the execution. Elated with 
success, he then called to his mistress and told her to 
suffer another Indian to enter and they w T ould kill them 



DA VIS, CAFFREE, AND McCL UBE. 181 

all one by one. While deliberating upon this proposal, 
however, a sharp firing was heard without, and the In- 
dians quickly disappeared. A party of white men had 
seen them at a distance, and having followed them 
cautiously, had now interposed, at a very critical mo- 
ment, and rescued a helpless family from almost certain 
destruction. 



In the spring of 1784, three young Kentuckians, 
Davis, Caffree, and McClure, pursued a party of 
southern Indians, who had stolen horses from Lincoln 
County, and finding it impossible to overtake them, they 
determined to go on to the nearest Indian settlement, 
and make reprisals, horse stealing being at that time a 
very fashionable amusement, and much practiced on 
both sides. After traveling several days, they came 
within a few miles of an Indian town near the Tennes- 
see River, called Chicaeaugo. Here they fell in with 
thiee Indians. Finding themselves equal in point of 
numbers, the two parties made signs of peace, shook 
hands, and agreed to travel together. Each, however, 
was evidently suspicious of the other. The Indians 
walked upon one side of the road and the whites upon 
the other, watching each other attentively. 

At length the Indians spoke together in tones so low 
and earnest, that the whites became satisfied of their 
treacherous intentions, and determined to anticipate 
them. Caffree being a very powerful man, proposed 
that he himself should seize one Indian, while Davis 
and McClure should shoot the other two. The plan 
was a bad one, but was unfortunately adopted. Caffree 
sprung boldly upon the nearest Indian, grasped his 
throat firmly, hurled him to the ground, and drawing 
a cord from his pocket attempted to tie him. At the 
same instant Davis and McClure attempted to perform 
their respective parts. McClure killed his man, but 
Davis's gun missed fire. All three, i. e. y the two white 
men and the Indian at whom Davis had flashed, im- 
mediately took trees, and prepared for a skirmish, while 



182 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

Caffree remained upon the ground with the captured 
Indian, both exposed to the lire of the others. 

In a few seconds, the savage at whom Davis had 
flashed, shot Caffree as he lay upon the ground and 
gave him a mortal wound, and was instantly shot in 
turn by McClure, who had reloaded his gun. Caffree 
becoming very weak, called upon Davis to come and 
assist him in tying the Indian, and instantly afterward 
expired. As Davis was running up to the assistance 
of his friend, the Indian, now released by the death of 
his captor, sprung to his feet, and seizing Caffree's rifle, 
presented it menacingly at Davis, whose gun w r as not in 
order for service, and who ran off into the forest, closely 
pursued by the Indian. McClure hastily reloaded his 
gun, and taking up the rifle which Davis had dropped, 
followed them for some distance into the forest, making 
all those signals which had been concerted between 
them in case of separation. All, however, was vain ; 
he saw nothing more of Davis, nor could he ever after- 
ward learn his fate. As he never returned to Ken- 
tucky, however, he probably perished. 

McClure, finding himself alone in the enemy's coun- 
try, and surrounded by dead bodies, thought it prudent 
to abandon the object of the expedition and return to 
Kentucky. He accordingly retraced his steps, still bear- 
ing Davis's rifle in addition to his own. He had scarcely 
marched a mile, before he saw advancing from the op- 
posite direction an Indian warrior, riding a horse with 
a bell around its neck, and accompanied by a boy on 
foot. Droppfng one of the rifles, which might have 
created suspicion, McClure advanced with an air of 
confidence, extending his hand and making other signs 
of peace. The opposite party appeared frankly to re- 
ceive his overtures, and, dismounting, seated himself 
upon a log, and drawing out his pipe, gave a few puffs 
himself, and then handect it to McClure. 

In a few minutes another bell was heard, at the dis- 
tance of half a mile, and a second party of Indians ap- 
peared upon horseback. The Indian with McClure now 
coolly informed him by signs that when the horsemen 
arrived, he (McClure) was to be bound and carried off 



THOMAS MARSHALL, 183 

as a prisoner with his feet tied under the horse's bell) 7 . 
In order to explain it more fully, the Indian got astride 
of the log, and locked his legs together underneath it. 
McClure, internally thanking the fellow for his excess 
of candor, determined to disappoint him, and while his 
enemy was busily engaged in riding the log, and mim- 
icking the actions of a prisoner, he very quietly blew 
his brains out, and ran off into the woods. The Indian 
boy instantly mounted the belled horse, and rode off. 
in an opposite direction. 

McClure was fiercely pursued by several small Indian 
dogs, that frequently ran between his legs and threw 
him down. After falling five or six times, his eyes be- 
came full of dust, and he was totally blind. Despair- 
ing of escape, he doggedly lay upon his face, expecting 
every instant to feel the edge of the tomahawk. To his 
astonishment, however, no enemy appeared, and even 
the Indian dogs, after tugging at him for a few minutes, 
and completely stripping him of his breeches, left him 
to continue his journey unmolested. Finding every 
thing quiet, in a few moments he arose, and taking up 
his gun, continued his march to Kentucky. He reached 
home in safety, and in 1820 was still alive. This com- 
munication is from his own lips, and may be relied upon 
as correct. 



In the course of the next year, many families came 
down the Ohio in boats, landed at Maysville, and con- 
tinued their route by land, in such parts of the country 
as pleased them. Out of a number of incidents which 
attended the passage of boats down the river, I shall 
select two, as worthy of being mentioned. Colonel 
Thomas Marshall, formerly commander of the Third 
Virginia Regiment on continental establishment, and 
subsequently holding the same rank in the Virginia ar- 
tillery, embarked with a numerous family on board of 
a flat-bottomed boat, and descended the Ohio without 
any incident worthy of notice, until he had passed the 
mouth of Kenawha. Here, about ten o'clock at night, 
he was hailed from the northern shore by a man who 



184 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

spoke good English, and quickly announced himself as 
James Girty, the brother of Sim >n, both of whom have 
already been repeatedly mentioned. The boat dropped 
slowly down within one hundred and fifty yards of the 
shore, and Girty making a corresponding movement on 
the beach, the conference was kept up for several min- 
utes. He began by mentioning his name, and inquir- 
ing that of the master of the boat. 

Having been satisfied upon this head, he assured him 
that he knew him well, respected him highly, etc., and 
concluded with some rather extraordinary remarks. 
" He had been posted there," he said, " by the order 
of his brother Simon, to warn all boats of the danger 
of permitting themselves to be decoyed ashore. The 
Indians had become jealous of him, and he had lost 
that influence which he formerly held among them. 
He deeply regretted the injury which he had infl cted 
upon his countrymen, and wished to be restored to their 
society. In order to convince them of the sinceritv of 
his regard, he had directed him to warn all boats of the 
snares spread for them. Every eff>rt would be made 
to draw passengers ashore. White men would appear 
on the bank, and children, would be heard to supplicate 
for mercy. But," continued he, " do you keep the mid- 
dle of the river, and steel your heart against every 
mournful application which you may receive." The 
colonel thanked him for his intelligence, and continued 
his course. 

From this it would appear, that Girty's situation was 
by no means enviable. The superior intelligence which 
had first given him influence, gradually attracted envy. 
Combinations were probably formed against him, us 
they are in civilized life, against every man who is 
guilty of the unpardonable offense of mounting rapidly 
above his fellows. Ambition, jealousy, intrigue, com- 
binations for particular objects, prevail as strongly 
among savages as among civilized beings, and spring 
in each from the same source — a tender, passionate, in- 
ordinate love of self — a passion the most universal, 
deeply rooted, and infinitely diversified in its operations, 
of any in existence — a passion as strong and easily of- 



JAMES WARD. 185 

fended in the degraded Hottentot, as in the Emperor 
Napoleon, in the superannuated old woman as in the 
blooming belle — the only human passion which age can 
not tame, or misery extinguish, or experience cure, or 
philosophy expel ; which flutters as strongly in the jaw T s 
of death as in the vigor of life, and is as buoyant and 
ridiculous in the breast of the philosopher, as in that 
of a village beauty. Nothing more was ever heard of 
Girty's wish to be restored to his station in society; but 
his warning, by whatever motive dictated, was of serv- 
ice to many families. 



About the same time, Captain James Ward, at pres- 
ent a highly respectable citizen of Mason County, Ky., 
(183z), was descending the Ohio, under circumstances 
which rendered a renconter with the Indians peculiarly 
to be dreaded. He, together with half a dozen others, 
one of them his nephew, embarked in a crazy boat, 
about. forty-five ftet long and eight feet wide, with no 
other bulwark than a single pine plank above each gun- 
wale. The boat was much encumbered with baggage, 
and seven horses were on board. Having seen no enemy 
for several days, they had become secure and carele.-s, 
and permitted the boat to drift within fifty yards of the 
Ohio shore. Suddenly several hundred Indians showed 
themselves on the bank, and running down boldly to the 
waiter's edge, opened a heavy fire upon the boat. The 
astonishment of the crew may be conceived. 

Captain Ward and his nephew w r ere at the oars when 
the enemy appeared, and the captain, knowing that their 
safety depended upon their ability to regain the middle 
of the river, kept his seat firmly, and exerted his utmost 
powers at the oar ; but his nephew started up at sight 
of the enemy, seized his rifle, and was in the act of lev- 
eling it, when he received a ball in the breast and fell 
dead in the bottom of the boat. Unfortunately, his oar 
fell into the river, and the captain, having no one to 
pull against him, rather urged the boat nearer to the 
hostile shore than otherwise. He quickly seized a plank, 
however, and giving his own oar to another of the crew, 



186 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

he took the station which his nephew had held, and, un- 
hurt by the shower of bullets which flew around him, 
continued to exert himself until the boat had reached a 
more respectable distance. He then for the first time 
looked around him, in order to observe the condition of 
the crew. 

His nephew lay in his blood, perfectly lifeless; the 
horses had been all killed or mortally wounded. Some 
had fallen overboard, others were struggling violently, 
and causing their frail bark to dip water so abundantly 
as to excite the most serious apprehensions. But the 
crew presented the most singular spectacle. A captain, 
who had served with reputation in the continental army, 
seemed now totally bereft of his faculties. He lay upon 
his back in the bottom of the boat with hands uplifted, 
and a countenance in which terror was personified, ex- 
claiming, in a tone of despair, " Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord!" 
A Dutchman, whose weight might amount to about 
three hundred pounds, was anxiously engaged in endeav- 
oring to find shelter for his bulky person, which, from 
the lowness of the gunwales, was a very difficult under- 
taking. In spite of his utmost efforts, a portion of his 
posterial luxuriance appeared above the gunwale, and 
afforded a mark to the enemy, which brought a constant 
shower of balls around it. 

In vain he shifted his position. The hump still ap- 
peared, and the balls still flew around it, until the 
Dutchman, losing all patience, raised his head above 
the gunwale, and, in a tone of querulous remonstrance, 
called out, "Oh, now! quit tat tamned nonsense tere, 
will you?" Not a shot was fired from the boat. At 
one time, after they had partly regained the current, 
Captain Ward attempted to bring his rifle to bear upon 
them, but so violent was the agitation of the boat from 
the furious struggles of the horses, that he could not 
steady his piece within twenty yards of the enemy, and, 
quickly laying it aside, returned to the oar. The In- 
dians followed them down the river for more than an 
hour, but, having no canoes, they did not attempt to 
board ; and as the boat was at length transferred to the 
opposite side of the river, they at length abandoned the 



FRANCIS DOWNING. 187 

pursuit and disappeared. None of the crew, save the 
young man already mentioned, were hurt, although the 
Dutchman's seat of honor served as a target for the 
space of an hour, and the continental captain "was 
deeply mortified at the sudden and, as he said, "unac- 
countable" panic which had seized him. Captain Ward 
himself was protected by a post, which had been fas- 
tened to the gunwale, and behind which he sat while 
rowing. 



In the month of August, 1786, Mr. Francis Down- 
ing, then a mere lad, was living in a fort, wiiere sub- 
sequently some iron works were erected by Mr. Jacob 
Myers, now (in 1832) known by the name of "Slate 
Creek Works," and are the property of Colonel Thomas 
Dye Owings. About the sixteenth, a young man be- 
longing to the fort called upon Downing, and requested 
his assistance in hunting for a horse which had strayed 
away on the preceding evening. Downing readily com- 
plied, and the two friends traversed the woods in every 
direction, until at length, toward evening, they found 
themselves in a wild valley, at the distance of six or 
seven miles from the fort. Here Downing became 
alarmed, and repeatedly assured his elder companion, 
whose name was Yates, that he heard sticks cracking 
behind them, and was confident that Indians were dog- 
ging them. Yates, being an experienced hunter, and 
from habit grown indifferent to the dangers of the 
woods, diverted himself freely at the expense of his 
young companion, often inquiring at what price he 
rated his scalp, and offering to insure it for sixpence. 

Downing, however, was not so easily satisfied. He 
observed that in whatever direction they tinned the 
same ominous sounds continued to haunt them, and as 
Yates still treated his fears with the most perfect indif- 
ference, he determined to take his measures upon his 
own responsibility. Gradually slackening his pace, he 
permitted Yates to advance twenty or thirty steps in 
front of him, and immediately after descending a gentle 
hill, he suddenly sprang aside and hid himself in a thick 



188 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

cluster of whortleberry bushes. Yates, who at that time 
was performing some woodland ditty to the full extent 
of his lungs, was too much pleased with his own voice 
to attend either to Downing or the Indians, and was 
quickly out of sight. Scarcely had he disappeared, 
when Downing, to his unspeakable terror, beheld 
two savages put aside the stalks of a canebrake and 
look out cautiously in the direction which Yates had 
taken. 

Fearful that they had seen him step aside, he deter- 
mined to fire upon them and trust to his heels for safety; 
but so unsteady was his hand, that, in raising his gun 
to his shoulder, it went off before he had taken aim. 
He lost no time in following its example, and after hav- 
ing run fifty yards he met Yates, who, alarmed at the 
report, was hastily retracing his steps. It was not nec- 
essary to inquire what was the matter. The enemy 
were in full view, pressing forward with great rapidity, 
and "devil take the hindmost" was the order of the day. 
Yates would not outstrip Downing, but ran by his side, 
although in so doing he risked both of their lives. The 
Indians were well acquainted with the country, and soon 
took a path that diverged from the one which the whites 
followed at one point and rejoined it at another, bearing 
the same relation to it that the string does to the bow. 

The two paths were at no point distant from each 
other more than one hundred yards, so that Yates and 
Downing could easily see the enemy gaining rapidly 
upon them. They reached the point of reunion first, 
however, and quickly came to a deep gully, which it 
was necessary to cross or retrace their steps. Yates 
cleared it without difficulty, but Downing, being much 
exhausted, fell short, and falling with his breast against 
the opposite brink, rebounded with violence and fell at 
full length on the bottom. The Indians crossed the 
ditch a few yards below him, and, eager for the capture 
of Yates, continued the pursuit, without appearing to 
notice Downing. The latter, who at first had given 
himself up for lost, quickly recovered his strength, and 
began to walk slowly along the ditch, fearing to leave 
it, lest the enemy should see him. As he advanced, 



WIDOW SHANKS. 189 

however, the ditch became more shallow, until at length 
it ceased to protect him at all. 

Looking around cautiously, he saw one of the Indians 
returning, apparently in quest of him. Unfortunately, 
he had neglected to reload his gun while in the ditch, 
and as the Indian instantly advanced upon him, he had 
no resource but flight. Throwing away his gun, which 
was now useless, he plied his legs manfully in ascending 
a long ridge which stretched before him, but the Indian 
gained upon him so rapidly that he lost all hope of es- 
cape. Coming at length to a large poplar which had 
been blown up by the roots, he ran along the body of 
the tree upon one side, while the Indian followed it upon 
the other, doubtless expecting to intercept him at the 
root. But here the supreme dominion of fortune was 
manifested. 

It happened that a large she-bear w T as suckling her 
cubs in a bed which she had made at the root of the tree, 
and as the Indian reached that point fir.-t, she instantly 
sprang upon him, and a prodigious uproar took place. 
The Indian yelled, and stabbed with his knife; the bear 
growled, and saluted him with one of her most endear- 
ing "hugs," while Downing, fervently wishing her suc- 
cess, ran off through the woods, without waiting to see 
the event of the struggle. Downing reached the fort 
in safety, and found Yates reposing after a hot chase, 
having eluded his pursuers, and gained the fort two 
hours before him. On the next morning they collected 
a party and returned to the poplar tree, but no traces, 
either of the Indian or bear, were to be found. They 
both probably escaped with their lives, although not 
without injury. 



On the night of the eleventh of April, 1787, the house 
of a widow, in Bourbon County, became the scene of 
an adventure which, we think, deserves to be related. 
She occupied what is generally called a double cabin 
in a lonely part of the county, one room of which was 
tenanted by the old lady herself, together with two 
grown sons and a widowed daughter (at that time suck- 



190 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

ling an infant), while the other was occupied by two un- 
married daughters, from sixteen to twenty years of age, 
together with a little girl not more than half-grown. 
The hour was eleven o'clock at night. One of the un- 
married daughters was still busily engaged at the loom, 
but the other members of the family, with the excep- 
tion of one of the sons, had retired to rest. Some 
symptoms of an alarming nature had engaged the at- 
tention of the young man for an hour before any thing 
of a decided character took place. 

The cries of owls were heard in the adjoining wood, 
answering each other in rather an unusual manner. The 
horses, which were inclosed as usual in a pound near the 
house, were more than commonly excited, and by re- 
peated snorting and galloping announced the presence 
of some object of terror. The young man was often 
upon the point of awakening his brother, but was as of- 
ten restrained by the fear of incurring ridicule and the 
reproach of timidity, at that time an unpardonable blem- 
ish in the character of a Kentuckian. At length hasty 
steps were heard in the yard, and, quickly afterward, 
several loud knocks at the door, accompanied by the 
usual exclamation, "Who keeps house?" in very good 
English. The young man, supposing from the language 
that some benighted settlers were at the door, hastily 
arose, and was advancing to withdraw the bar which se- 
cured it, when his mother, who had long lived upon the 
frontiers, and had probably detected the Indian tone in 
the demand for admission, instantly sprang out of bed 
and ordered her son not to admit them, declaring that 
they were Indians. 

She instantly awakened her other son, and the two 
3^oung men, seizing their guns, which were always charg- 
ed, prepared to repel the enemy. The Indians, finding 
it impossible to enter under their assumed characters, 
began to thunder at the door with great violence, but a 
single shot from a loop-hole compelled them to shift the 
attack to some less exposed point, and, unfortunately, 
they discovered the door of the other cabin, which con- 
tained the three daughters. The rifles of the brothers 
could not be brought to bear upon this point, and, by 



WIDOW SIIAJSTK8. 191 

means of several rails taken from the yard fence, the 
door was forced from its hinges, and the three girls were 
at the mercy of the savages. One was instantly secured, 
but the eldest defended herself desperately with a knife 
which she had been using at the loom, and stabbed one 
of the Indians to the heart before she was tomahawked. 

In the meantime, the little girl, who had been over- 
looked by the enemy in their eagerness to secure the 
others, ran out into the yard, and might have effected 
her escape had she taken advantage of the darkness and 
fled ; but, instead of that, the terrified little creature ran 
around the house, wringing her hands, and crying out 
that her sisters were killed. The brothers, unable to 
hear her cries without risking every thing for her res- 
cue, rushed to the door, and were preparing to sally out 
to her assistance, when their mother threw herself be- 
fore them, and calmly declared that the child must be 
abandoned to its fate; that the sally would sacrifice the 
lives of all the rest without the slightest benefit to the 
little girl. Just then the child uttered a loud scream, 
followed by a few faint moans, and all was again silent. 
Presently the crackling of flames was heard, accom- 
panied by a triumphant yell from the Indians, announc- 
ing that they had set fire to that division of the house- 
which had been occupied by the daughters, and of which 
they held undisputed possession. 

The fire was quickly communicated to the rest of 
the building, and it became necessary to abandon it 
or perish in the flames. In the one case there was a 
possibility that some might escape; in the other, their 
fate would be equally certain and terrible. The rapid 
approach of the flames cut short their momentary sus- 
pense. The door was thrown open, and the old lady, 
supported by her eldest son, attempted to cross the 
fence at one point, while her daughter, carrying her 
child in her arms, and attended by the younger of the 
brothers, ran in a different direction. The blazing 
roof shed a light over the yard but little inferior to 
that of day, and the savages were distinctly seen 
awaiting the approach of their victims. The old lady 
was permitted to reach the stile unmolested, but in the 
18 



192 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

act of crossing, received several balls in her breast 
and fell dead. Her son, providentially, remained un- 
hurt, and by extraordinary agility effected his escape. 

The other party succeeded also in reaching the fence 
unhurt, but, in the act of crossing, were vigorously 
assailed by several Indians, who, throwing down their 
guns, rushed upon them with their tomahawks. The 
young man defended his sister gallantly, firing upon 
the enemy as they approached, and then wielding the 
butt of his rifle with a fury that drew their whole 
attention upon himself, and gave his sister an oppor- 
tunity of effecting her escape. He quickly fell, how- 
ever, under the tomahawks of his enemies, and was 
found, at daylight, scalped and mangled in a shocking 
manner. Of the whole family, consisting of eight 
persons when the attack commenced, only three 
escaped. Four were killed upon the spot, and one 
(the second daughter) carried off as a prisoner. 

The neighborhood was quickly alarmed, and by day- 
light about thirty men were assembled under the com- 
mand of Colonel Edwards. A light snow had fallen 
during the latter part of the night, and the Indian 
trail could be pursued at a gallop. It led directly into 
the mountainous country bordering upon Licking, and 
afforded evidences of great hurry and precipitation on 
the part of the fugitives. Unfortunately, a hound had 
been permitted to accompany the whites, and as the 
trail became fresh and the scent warm, she followed it 
with eagerness, baying loudly and giving the alarm to 
the Indians. The consequences of this imprudence 
were soon displayed. The enemy, finding the pursuit 
keen, and perceiving that the strength of the prisoner 
began to fail, instantly sunk their tomahawks in her 
head, and left her, still warm and bleeding, upon the 
snow. 

As the whites came up, she retained strength enough 
to wave her hand in token of recognition, and appeared 
desirous of giving them some information with regard 
to the enemy, but her strength was too far gone. 
Her brother sprang from his horse and knelt by her 
side, endeavoring to stop the effusion of blood, but in 



WILD WHITE MAN. 193 

vain. She gave him her hand, muttered some in- 
articulate words, and expired within two minutes after 
the arrival of the party. The pursuit was renewed 
with additional ardor, and in twenty minutes the 
enemy was within view. They had taken possession 
of a steep narrow ridge, and seemed desirous of mag- 
nifying their numbers in the eyes of the whites, as 
they ran rapidly from tree to tree, and maintained a 
steady yell in their most appalling tones. The pur- 
suers, however, were too experienced to be deceived 
by so common an artifice, and being satisfied that the 
number of the enemy must be inferior to their own, 
they dismounted, tied their horses, and flanking out in 
such a manner as to inclose the enemy, ascended the 
ridge as rapidly as was consistent with a due regard 
to the shelter of their persons. 

The firing quickly commenced, and now, for the 
first time, they discovered that only two Indians were 
opposed to them. They had voluntarily sacrificed 
themselves for the safety of the main body, and had 
succeeded in delaying pursuit until their friends could 
reach the mountains. One of them was instantly shot 
dead, and the other was badly wounded, as was evident 
from the blood upon his blanket, as well as that which 
filled his tracks in the snow for a considerable dis- 
tance. The pursuit was re-commenced, and urged 
keenly until night, when the trail entered a running 
stream and was lost. On the following morning the 
snow had melted, and every trace of the enemy was 
obliterated. This affair must be regarded as highly 
honorable to the skill, address, and activity of the In- 
dians, and the self-devotion of the rear guard is a 
lively instance of that magnanimity of which they are 
at times capable, and which is more remarkable in 
them, from the extreme caution, and tender regard 
for their own lives, which usually distinguishes their 
warriors. 



A few weeks after this melancholy affair, a very re- 
markable incident occurred in the same neighborhood. 
One morning about sunrise, a young man of wild and 



194 wester:? adventure, 

savage appearance suddenly arose from a cluster of 
bashes in front of a cabin, and hailed the house in a bar- 
barous dialect, which seemed neither exactly Indian nor 
English, but a collection of shreds and patches from 
which the graces of both were carefully excluded. His 
skin had evidently once been white, although now griev- 
ously tanned by constant exposure to the weather. His 
dress in every respect was that of an Indian, as were 
his gestures, tones, and equipments, and his age could 
not be supposed to exceed twenty years. He talked 
volubly but uncouthly, placed his hand upon his breast, 
gestured vehemently, and seemed very earnestly bent 
upon communicating something. He was invited into 
the cabin, and the neighbors quickly collected around 
him. 

He appeared involuntarily to shrink from contact with 
them ; his eyes rolled rapidly around with a distrustful 
expression from one to the other, and his whole manner 
was that of a wild animal, just caught, and shrinking 
from the touch of its captors. As several present un- 
derstood the Indian tongue, they at length gathered the 
following circumstances, as accurately as they could be 
translated out of a language which seemed to be an 
omnium gatherum of all that was mongrel, uncouth, and 
barbarous. He said that he had been taken by the In- 
dians when a child, but could neither recollect his name 
nor the country of his birth; that he had been adopted 
by an Indian warrior, who brought him up with his 
other sons, without making the slightest difference be- 
tween them, and that under his father's roof he had 
lived happily until within the last month. 

A few weeks before that time, his father, accompanied 
by himself and a younger brother, had hunted for some 
time upon the waters of the Miami, about forty miles 
from the spot where Cincinnati now stands, and after 
all their meat, skins, etc., had been properly secured, the 
old man determined to gratify his children by taking 
them upon a war expedition to Kentucky. They ac- 
cordingly built a bark canoe, in which they crossed the 
Ohio near the mouth of Licking, and having buried it, 
so as to secure it from the action of the sun, they ad- 



WILD WHITE MAN. 195 

vanced into the country and encamped at the distance 
of fifteen miles from the river. Here their father was 
alarmed by hearing an owl cry in a peculiar tone, which 
he declared boded death or captivity to themselves if 
they continued their expedition, and announced his in- 
tention of returning without delay to the river. 

Both of his sons vehemently opposed this resolution, 
and at length prevailed upon the old man to disregard 
the owl's warning, and conduct them, as he had prom- 
ised, against the frontiers of Kentucky. The party 
then composed themselves to sleep, but were quickly 
awakened by their father, who had again been warned, 
in a dream, that death awaited them in Kentucky, and 
again besought his children to release him from his 
promise, and lose no time in returning home. Again 
they prevailed upon him to disregard the warning and 
persevere in the march. He consented to gratify them, 
but declared he would not remain a moment longer in 
the camp which they now occupied; and, accordingly, 
they left it immediately, and marched on through the 
night, directing their course toward Bourbon County. 

In the evening they approached a house — that which 
he had hailed and in which he was now speaking. 
Suddenly the desire of rejoining his people occupied his 
mind so strongly as to exclude every other idea; and, 
seizing the first favorable opportunity, he had concealed 
himself in the bushes, and neglected to reply to all the 
signals which had been concerted for the purpose of 
collecting their party when scattered. This account 
appeared so extraordinary, and the young man's ap- 
pearance was so wild and suspicious, that many of the 
neighbors suspected him of treachery, and thought that 
he should be arrested as a spy. Others opposed this 
resolution, and gave full credit to his narrative. In 
order to satisfy themselves, however, they insisted upon 
his instantly conducting them to the spot where the 
canoe had been buried. To this the young man ob- 
jected most vehemently, declaring that although he had 
deserted his father and brother, yet he would not betray 
them. 

These feelings were too delicate to meet with much 



196 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

sympathy from the rude borderers who surrounded 
him, and he was given to understand that nothing short 
of conducting them to the point of embarkation would 
be accepted as an evidence of his sincerity. With ob- 
vious reluctance he at length complied. From twenty 
to thirty men were quickly assembled, mounted upon 
good horses, and under the guidance of the deserter, 
they moved rapidly toward the mouth of Licking. On 
the road, the young man informed them that he would 
first conduct them to the spot where they had encamped 
when the scream of the owl alarmed his lather, and 
where an iron kettle had been left, concealed in a hol- 
low tree. He was probably induced to do this from the 
hope of delaying the pursuit so long as to afford his 
friends an opportunity of crossing the river in safety. 

But if such was his intention, no measure could have 
been more unfortunate. The whites approached the 
encampment in deep silence, and quickly perceived two 
Indians — an old man and a boy — seated by the fire, 
and busily employed in cooking some venison. The 
deserter became much agitated at the sight of them, 
and so earnestly implore I his countrymen not to kill 
them, that it was agreed to surround the encampment 
and endeavor to secure them as prisoners. This was 
accordingly attempted; but so desperate was the re- 
sistance of the Indians, and so determined Avere their 
efforts to escape, that the whites were compelled to fire 
upon them, and the old man fell mortally wounded, 
while the boy, by an incredible display of address and 
activity, was enabled to escape. The deserter beheld 
his father fall, and throwing himself from his horse, he 
ran up to the spot where the old man lay, bleeding but 
still sensible, and falling upon his body, besought his 
forgiveness for being the unwilling cause of his death, 
and wept bitterly. 

His father evidently recognized him, and gave him 
his hand, but almost instantly afterward expired. The 
white men now called upon him to conduct them at a 
gallop to the spot where the canoe was buried, expect- 
ing to reach it before the Indian boy and intercept him. 
The deserter in vain implored them to compassionate 



JOHN MEBRIL. 197 

his feelings. He urged that he had already sufficiently 
demonstrated the truth of his former assertions, at the 
expense of his father's life, and earnestly entreated them 
to permit his younger brother to escape. His compan- 
ions, however, were inexorable. Nothing but the blood 
of the young Indian would satisfy them, and the de- 
serter was again compelled to act as a guide. Within 
two hours they reached the designated spot. The canoe 
was still there, and no track could be seen upon the 
sand, so that it was evident that their victim had not 
yet arrived. 

Hastily dismounting, they tied their horses and con- 
cealed themselves within close rifle-shot of the canoe. 
Within ten minutes after their arrival, the Indian ap- 
peared in sight, walking swiftly toward them. He went 
straight to the spot where the canoe had been buried, and 
was in the act of digging it up when he received a dozen 
balls through his body, and leaping high into the air, 
fell dead upon the sand. He w r as instantly scalped and 
buried where he fell, without having s^een his brother, 
and, probably, without having known the treachery by 
which he and his father had lost their lives. The de- 
serter remained but a short time in Bourbon, and never 
regained his tranquillity of mind. He shortly afterward 
disappeared, but whether to seek his relations in Vir- 
ginia or Pennsylvania, or whether, disgusted by the 
ferocity of the whites, he returned to the Indians, has 
never yet been known. He was never heard of after- 
ward. 



During the summer, the house of Mr. John Mekril, 
of Nelson County, Ky., was attacked by the Indians, 
and defended with singular address and good fortune. 
Merril was alarmed by the barking of a dog about mid- 
night, and, upon opening the door in order to ascertain 
the cause of the disturbance, he received the fire of six 
or seven Indians, by which his arm and thigh were both 
broken. He instantly sunk upon the floor and called 
upon his wife to close the door. This had scarcely 
been done, when it was violently assailed by the torn- 



198 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

ahawks of the enemy, and a large breach soon effected. 
Mrs. Merril, however, being a perfect Amazon, both 
in strength and courage, guarded it with an ax, and 
successively killed or badly wounded four of the enemy 
as they attempted to force their way into the cabin. 

The Indians then ascended the roof, and attempted 
to enter by way of the chimney; but here again they 
were met by the same determined enemy. Mrs. Merril 
seized the only feather bed which the cabin afforded, 
and, hastily ripping it open, poured its contents Ujion 
the fire. A furious blaze and stiflirg smoke instantly 
ascended the chimney, and brought down two of the 
enemy, who lay for a few moments at the mercy of the 
lady. Seizing the ax, she quickly dispatched them, 
and was instantly afterward summoned to the door, 
where the only remaining savage now appeared, en- 
deavoring to effect an entrance while Mrs. Merril was 
engaged at the chimney. He soon received a gash in 
the cheek, which compelled him, with a loud yell, to 
relinquish his purpose, and return hastily to Chillicothe, 
where, from the report of a prisoner, he gave an ex- 
aggerated account of the fierceness, strength, and cour- 
age of the "long-knife squaw." 



WARD, CALVIN, AND KENTON, 199 



CHAPTER IX. 

IN the month of April, 1792, a number of horses, 
belonging to Captain Luther Calvin, of Mason 
County, were stolen by the Indians; and, as usual, a 
strong party volunteered to go in pursuit of the enemy, 
and recover the property. The party consisted of 
thirty-seven men, commanded by Captains Calvin and 
Kenton, and was composed chiefly of young farmers, 
most of whom had never yet met an enemy. The 
present Captain Charles Ward, deputy sheriff of 
Mason, in 1832, was one of the volunteers, and was at 
that time a mere lad, totally unacquainted with Indian 
warfare. They rendezvoused upon the Kentucky shore, 
immediately opposite Ripley, and crossing the river, in 
a small ferry-boat, pursued the trail for five or six miles 
with great energy. Here, however, a specimen of the 
usual caprice and uncertainty attending the motions of 
militia was given. 

One of the party, whose voice had been loud and 
resolute while on the Kentucky shore, all at once 
managed to discover that the enterprise was rash, ill- 
advised, and, if prosecuted, would certainly prove 
disastrous. A keen debate ensued, in which young 
Spencer Calvin, then a lad of eighteen, openly accused 
the gentleman alluded to of cowardice, and even 
threatened to take the measure of his shoulders with a 
ramrod, on the spot. By the prompt interference of 
Kenton and the elder Calvin, the young man's wrath 
was appeased for the time, and all those who preferred 
safety to honor were invited instantly to return. The 
permission was promptly accepted, and no less than 
fifteen men, headed by the recreant already mentioned, 
turned their horses heads and recrossed the river. The 
19 



200 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

remainder, consisting chiefly of experienced warriors, 
continued the pursuit. 

The trail led them down on the Miami, and, ahout 
noon on the second day, they heard a bell in front, 
apparently from a horse grazing. Cautiously approach- 
ing it, they quickly beheld a solitary Indian, mounted 
on horseback, and leisur ly advancing toward them. 
A few of their best marksm n fired upon him. and 
brought him to the ground. After a short consultati n, 
it was then determined to follow his back trail, and 
ascertain whether there were more in the neighborhood. 
A small, active, resolute wood -man, named Mclutyre, 
accompanied by three others, was pushed on in advance, 
in order to give them early notice of the enemy's 
appearance, while the main bodv followed at a more 
leisurely pice. Within an hour, Mclntyre returned, 
and reported that they were then within a short dis- 
tance of a large party of Indians, supposed to be greatly 
superior to their own ; that they were encamped in a 
bottom, upon the borders of a creek, and were amusing 
themselves, apparently awaiting the arrival of the In- 
dian whom they had just killed, as they woul 1 occasion- 
ally halloo loudly, and then laugh immoderately, sup- 
posing, probably, that their comrade had lost his way. 

This intelligence fell like a shower-bath upon the 
spirits of the p irty, who, thinking it more prudent 
to put a greater interval be ! ween themselves ami the 
enemy, set spurs to their horses and galloped back 
in the direction from which they had come, Such was 
the panic, that one of the footmen, a huge, hulking 
fellow, six feet high, in his.Z'al for his own safety, 
sprang up behind Captain Calvin (who was then 
mouited on Captain Ward's horse, the captain having 
dismounted in order to accommodate him), and nothing, 
short of a threat to blow his brains out, could induce 
him to dismount. In this orderly manner they scam- 
pered through the woods for several miles, when, in 
obedience to the orders of Kenton and Calvin, they 
halted and prepared for resistance, in case (as was 
probable) the enemy had discovered them, and were en- 
gaged in the pursuit. Kenton and Calvin were engaged 



WARD, CALVIN, AND KENTON 201 

apart in earnest consultation. It was proposed, tliat 
a number of saplings should be cut down, and a 
temporary breastwork erected; and, while the propriety 
of these measures was under discussion, the men were 
left to themselves. 

Captain Ward, as we have already observed, was, 
then, very young, and perfectly raw. He had been in 
the habit of looking up to one man as a perfect Hector, 
having always heard him represent! d, in his own neigh- 
borhood, as a man of redoubted courage, and a perfect 
Anthropophngus among the Indians. When they halted, 
therefore, he naturally looked around for his friend, 
hoping to read safety, couiage, and assurance of ^uc- 
cess in that countenance, usually so ruddy and confident. 
But, alas! the gallant warrior was wofully chop-fallen. 
There had, generally, been a ruddy tinge upon the tip 
of his no-e, which some ascribed to the effervescence 
of a fiery valor, while others, more maliciously inclined, 
attributed it to the fumes of brandy. Even this burn- 
ing beacon had been quenched, and had assumed a 
livid ashy hue, still deeper, if possible, than that of 
his lips. Captain Ward, thinking that the danger 
must he appalling which could damp the aidor of a 
man like him, instantly became grievously iiightened 
him-elf, and the contagion seemed spreading rapidly, 
when Kenton and Calvin rejoined them, and speaking 
in a cheerful, confident tone, completely re-animated 
their sprits. 

Finding them-elves not pursued by the enemy, as 
they had expected, it was determined that they should 
remain in their present position until night, when a 
rapid attack was to be made, in two divisions, upon 
the Indian camp, under the impression that the dark- 
ness of the night, and the surprise of the enemy, might 
give them an advantage which they could scarcelv hope 
for. in daylight. Accordingly, every thing remaining 
quiet, at dusk they again mounted, and advanced 
rapidly, but in profound .-iience, upon the Indian camp. 
It was ascertained that the horses which the enemy 
had stolen, were grazing in a rich bottom, below their 
camp. As they were advancing to the attack, there- 



202 



WESTERN ADVENTURE. 



fore, Calvin detached his son, with several halters, 
which he had borrowed from the men, to regain their 
own horses, and be prepared to carry them off in case 
the enemy should overpower them. The attack was 
then made in two divisions. 

Calvin conducted the upper, and Kenton the lower 
party. The wood was thick, but the moon shone out 
clearly, and enabled them to distinguish objects with 
sufficient precision. Calvin's party came first in contact 
with the enemy. They had advanced within thirty yards 
of a large fire, in front of a number of tents, without 
having seen a single Indian, when a dog, which had 
been watching them for several minutes, sprang forward 
to meet them, baying loudly. Presently an Indian 
appeared, approaching cautiously toward them, and 
occasionally speaking to the dog in the Indian tongue. 
This sight was too tempting to be borne, and Calvin 
heard the tick of a dozen rifles, in rapid succession, as 
his party cocked them in order to fire. The Indian 
was too close to permit him to speak, but, turning to 
his men, he earnestly waved his hand, as a warning 
to be quiet. Then, cautiously raising his own rifle, he 
fired with a steady aim, just as the Indian had reached 
the fire, and stood fairly exposed to its light. 

The report of the rifle instantly broke the stillness of 
the night, and their ears were soon deafened by the yells 
of the enemy. The Indian at whom Calvin had fired, 
fell forward into the burning pile of faggots, and by his 
struggling to extricate himself, scattered the brands so 
much as almost to extinguish the light. Several dusky 
forms glanced rapidly before them for a moment, which 
drew a volley from his men, but with what effect could 
not be ascertained. Calvin, having discharged his 
piece, turned so rapidly as to strike the end of his ram- 
rod against a tree behind him, and drive it into its 
sheath with such violence, that he was unable to ex- 
tricate it for several minutes, and finally fractured two 
of his teeth in the effort. 

A heavy fire now commenced from the Indian camp, 
which was returned with equal spirit by the whites, but 
without much effect on either side. Trees were barked 



WARD, CALVIN, AND KENTON. 203 

very plentifully, dogs bayed, the Indians yelled, the 
whites shouted, the squaws screamed, and a prodigious 
uproar was maintained for about fifteen minutes, when 
it was reported to Calvin that Kenton's party had been 
overpowered and was in full retreat. It was not nec- 
essary to give orders for a similar movement. No 
sooner had the intelligence been received, than the 
Kentuckians of the upper division broke their ranks, 
and every man attempted to save himself as he best 
could. They soon overtook the lower division, and a 
hot scramble took place for horses. One called upon 
another to wait for him until he could catch his horse, 
which had broken his bridle, but no attention was paid 
to the request. Some fled upon their own horses, others 
mounted those of their friends. " First come, first 
served," seemed to be the order of the night, and a sad 
confusion of property took place, in consequence of 
which, to their great terror, a few were compelled to re- 
turn on foot. The flight was originally caused by the 
panic of an individual. As the lower division moved 
up to. the attack, most of the men appeared to advance 
with alacrity. 

Captain Ward, how r ever, happened to be stationed 
next to Mclntyre, whom we have already had occasion 
to mention as a practiced Avoodsman and peculiarly ex- 
pert marksman. Heretofore, he had always been fore- 
most in every danger, and had become celebrated for 
the address, activity, and boldness with which he had 
acquitted himself. As they were ascending the gentle 
acclivity upon which the Indian camp stood, however, 
he appeared much dejected, and spoke despondingly of 
their enterprise. He declared that it had been revealed 
to him in a dream, on the preceding night, that their 
efforts would be vain, and that he himself was des- 
tined to perish ; that he was determined to fight, as 
long as any man of the party stood his ground, but if 
the whites w T ere wise, they would instantly abandon the 
attempt upon the enemy, and recross the Ohio as rapidly 
as possible. 

These observations made but little impression upon 
Ward, but seemed to take deep root in the mind of the 



204 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

gentleman whose pale face had alarmed the company at 
the breastwork The action quickly commenced, and 
at the first fire from the Indians, Barre, a young Ken- 

tuckian, was shot by 's side. This circumstance 

completed the overthrow of his courage, which had de- 
clined vi ibly since the first encounter in the morning, 
and elevating his voice to its shrillest notes, he shouted 
aloud, "Boys! it won't do for us to be here; Barre is 
killed, and the Indians are crossing the creek!" Bona- 
parte has said, that there is a critical period in every 
battle, when the bravest men will eagerly seize an ex- 
cuse to run away. The remark is doubly true with re- 
g.ird to militia. 

No sooner had this speech been uttered by one who 
had never yet been charged with cowardice, than the 
rout instantly took place, and all order was disregarded. 
Fortunately, the enemy were equally frightened, and 
probably would have fled themselves had the whites 
gi\-en them time. No pursuit took place for several 
hours, nor did they then pursue the trail of the main 
body of fugitives. But it unfortunately happened that 
Mclntyre, instead of accompanying the rest, turned off 
from the maiu route, and returned to the breastwork, 
where some flour and venison had been left. The In- 
dians quickly became aware of the circumstance, and 
following with rapidity, overtook, tomahawked, and 
scalped him, while engaged in preparing breakfast on 
the following morning. Thus was his dream verified. 
The prediction in this ca-e, as in many others, probably 
produced its own accomplishment by confounding his 
mind, and depriving him of his ordinary alertness and 
intelligence. He certainly provoked his fate, by his 
own extraordinary rashness. 

It is som what remarkable that a brother of Captain 
Ward was in the Indian camp at the moment when it 
was attacked. He had been taken by the Indians in 
1758, being at that time only three years old, had been 
adopted as a member of the Shawnee tribe, and had 
married an Indian woman by whom he had several 
chi dren, all of whom, together with their mother, were 
then in camp. Captain Ward has informed the writer 



WARD, CALVIN, AND KENTON. 205 

of this narrative that, a few seconds before the firing 
began, while he stood within rifle-shot of the encamp- 
ment, an Indian girl, apparently fifteen years of age, at- 
tracted his attention. JShe stood for an instant in an 
attitude of alarm in front of one of the tents, and gazed 
intently upon the spot where he then stood. Not im- 
mediately perceiving that it was a female, he raised his 
gun, and was upon the point of firing, when her open 
bosom announced her sex, and her peculiarly light com- 
plexion caused him to doubt for a moment whether she 
could bean Indian by birth. He afterward ascertained 
that she was his brother's child. 

It appears still more remarkable that, exactly one 
year afterward, John Ward, the adopted Indian, should 
have been opposed to another one of his brothers, Cap- 
tain James Ward, of Mason, in a night skirmish some- 
what resembling that which we have just detailed. Cap- 
tain James Ward, together with Kenton, Baker, and 
about thirty others, while engaged in pursuit of some 
stolen horses, fell upon a fre.-h trail of Indians, that 
crossed the road which they were then pursuing. In- 
stautly abandoning their former object, they followed 
the fresh trail with great eagerness, and a short time 
after dark arrived ai an encampment. Having care- 
fully reconnoitered it, they determined to remain qniet 
until daylight, and then fall upon the enemy as before, 
in two divisions, one to be commanded by Kenton and 
the other by Baker. Every thing remained quiet until 
four o'clock in the morning, when Baker moved at the 
head of his party, in order to take the appointed posi- 
tion (which was very advantageous, and, in conjunction 
with Kenton's, completely surrounded the enemy), 
while Kenton remained stationary, awaiting the signal 
of attack. 

By some mistake, Baker moved in a false direction, 
and to the surprise of both parties, instead of inclosing 
the Indian camp, he fell directly upon it. A heavy fir- 
ing, and the usual yelling, quickly announced the fact 
to Kenton, who moved hastily up to the assistance of his 
friends. It was still perfectly dark, and the filing was 
of course at random. Baker, in whose fiery character 



206 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

courage predominated over every thing else, lost all pa- 
tience at the restraint under which they lay, and urged 
strenuously that they should rush upon the enemy, and 
decide the affair at once with the tomahawk ; but Ken- 
ton, whom repeated misfortunes had rendered extremely 
cautious, opposed it so vehemently that it was not done. 
One of their men had fallen, and they could hear one 
of the enemy, apparently not more than thirty yards 
from them, groan deeply, and occasionally converse with 
his companions in the Indian tongue. The wounded 
man was the unfortunate John Ward, whose hard fate 
it was to fight against the whites in a battle in which 
his own father was killed, to encounter two of his broth- 
ers in the field, and finally to fall mortally wounded in 
a night skirmish when his brother was opposed to him, 
and was within hearing of his groans. His father per- 
ished in the long battle at the " Point," as it was called, 
near the mouth of the Kenawha. The whole force of 
the Shawnees was assembled at that point, and John 
Ward was then nineteen years of age, so that there can 
be but little doubt of his having been present. 



MAY JOHNSTON, AND SKYLES. 207 



CHAPTER X. 

MR. JOHN MAY, a gentleman of Virginia, had, at 
an early period, been appointed surveyor of the 
Kentucky lands, and had become so extensively involved 
in business as to require the aid of a clerk. In 1789 he 
employed Mr. Charles Johnston, a young man 
scarcely twenty years of age, in that capacity. John- 
ston accompanied his employer to Kentucky in the sum- 
mer of 1789, and returned to Virginia in the autumn 
of the same year, without any adventure worthy of no- 
tice ; and in the month of February, 1790, it became nec- 
essary for them to return to Kentucky, in order to 
complete the business which had been left unfinished on 
the former trip. Heretofore they had traveled by land, 
but on the present occasion May determined to descend 
the Great Kenawha and Ohio by water. They accord- 
ingly traveled by the usual route to Green Briar Court- 
house, where the town of Lewisburgh has since been 
built, and from thence crossed the wilderness which lay 
between that point and the Great Kenawha. 

After suffering much from the weather, which was 
intensely cold, they at length reached Kelly's Station 
upon the Kenawha, from which point May proposed to 
embark. Having purchased a boat — such as was then 
used for the navigation of the Western waters — they em- 
barked, in company with Mr. Jacob Skyles, a gentle- 
man of Virginia, who had at that time a stock of dry 
goods intended for Lexington, and, without any acci- 
dent, in the course of a few days they arrived at Point 
Pleasant. Here there was an accession to their number 
of three persons ; a man named Flinn and two sisters of 
the name of Fleming. Flinn was a hardy borderer, ac- 



208 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

customed from his youth to all the dangers of the fron- 
tiers, and the two Miss Flemings were women of L»w sta- 
tion and doubtful character. They were all natives of 
Pittsburgh, and were on their way to Kentucky. 

During their short stay at Point Pleasant, they 
learned that roving bunds of Indians were constantly 
hov :ring upon either bank of the Ohio, and were in the 
habit of decoying boats ashore under various pretenses, 
and murdering or taking captive all who were on board; 
so that, up >n leaving Point Pleasant, they determined 
that no consideration should induce them to approach 
either shore, but, steeling their hearts against every en- 
treaty, that they would resolutely keep the middle of 
the current, and leave distressed individuals to ^hil't for 
themselves. How firmly this resolution was maintained 
the sequel will show 7 . The spring freshet was in its 
height at the time of their embarkation, and their boat 
was wafted rapidly down the stream. There was no oc- 
casion to use the side oars, and it was only necessary for 
one individual at a time to watch throughout the night, 
at the steering oar, in order to keep the boat in the cur- 
rent. So long as this could be done, they entertained 
no dread of any number of Indians on either shore, as 
boarding had hitherto formed no part of their plans, and 
was supposed to be impracticable so long as arms were 
on board of the boat. 

On the morning of the twentieth of March, when near 
the junction of the Scioto, they were awakened at day- 
light by Flinn, whose turn it was to watch, and informed 
that danger was at hand. All instantly sprang to their 
feet, and hastened upon deck without removing their 
nightcaps or completing their dress. The cause of 
Flinn's alarm was quickly evident. Far down the river 
a smoke was s 'en, ascending in thick wreaths above the 
trees, and floating in thinner masses over the bed of the 
river. All instantly perceived that it could only pro- 
ceed from a large fire; and who was there to kindle a 
fire in the wilderness which surrounded them? No one 
doubted that Indians were in front, and the only qu s- 
tion to be decided was upon which shore they lay, ibr 
the winding of the river, and their distance from the 



MAY, JOHXSTOX, AND SKYLMS. 209 

smoke, rendered it impossible at first to ascertain tins 
point. As the boat drifted on, however, it became evi- 
dent that the fire was upon the Ohio shore, and it was 
instantly determined 10 put over to the opposite side of 
the river. Before this cou'd be done, however, two 
white men ran down upon the beach, and, clasping their 
hands in the most earnest manner, implored the crew to 
take them on board. 

They declared that they had been taken by a party 
of Indians in Kennedy's Bottom a few days before; had 
been conducted across the Ohio, and had just effected 
their e-cape. They added that the enemy was in close 
pursuit of them, and that their death was certain unless 
admitted on hoard. Resolute in their purpose on no 
account to leave the middle of the stream, and strongly 
suspecting the suppliants of treachery, the party paid 
no attention to their entreaties, but steadily pursued 
their course down the river, and were soon considerably 
ahead of them. The two white men ran down the bank 
in a line parallel with the course of the boat, and their 
entreaties were changed into the most piercing cries and 
lamentations upon perceiving the obstinacy with which 
their request was disregarded. 

Instantly the obduracy of the crew began to relax. 
Flinn and the two females, accustomed from their youth 
to undervalue danger from the Indians, earnestly insisted 
upon going ashore and relieving the white men, and 
even the incredulity of May began to yield to the per- 
severing importunity of the suppliants. A parley 
took place. May called to them from the deck of the 
boat, where he stood in his nightcap and drawers, and 
demanded the cause of the large fire the smoke of which 
had caused so much alarm. The white men positively 
denied that there was any fire near them. This false- 
hood was so palpable that May's former suspicions re- 
turned with additional force, and he positively insisted 
upon continuing their course without paying the slight- 
est attention to the request of the men. This resolution 
was firmly seconded by Johnston and Skyles, and as ve- 
hemently opposed by Flinn and the Miss Flemings, for, 
contrary to all established rules of policy, the females 



210 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

were allowed an equal vote with the males on board of 
the boat. 

Flinn urged that the men gave every evidence of real 
distress which could be required, and recounted too many 
particular circumstances attending their capture and es- 
cape, to give color to the suspicion that their story was 
invented for the occasion, and added that it would be a 
burning shame to them and theirs forever, if they should 
permit two countrymen to fall a sacrifice to the savages 
when so slight a risk on their part would suffice to re- 
lieve them. He acknowledged that they had lied in re- 
lation to the fire, but declared himself satisfied that it 
was only because they were fearful of acknowledging the 
truth, lest the crew should suspect that Indians were 
concealed in the vicinity. The controversy became 
warm, and during its progress the boat drifted so far be- 
low the men, that they appeared to relinquish their pur- 
suit in despair. 

At this time Flinn made a second proposal, which, 
according to his method of reasoning, could be carried 
into effect without the slightest risk to auy one but him- 
self. They were now more than a mile below the pur- 
suers. He proposed that May should only touch the 
hostile shore long enough to permit him to jump out; 
that it was impossible for Indians, even admitting that 
they were at hand, to arrive in time to arrest the boat, 
aud, even should any appear, they could immediately 
put off from shore and abandon him to his fate ; that 
he was confident of being able to outrun the red devils 
if they saw him first, and was equally confident of being 
able to see them as soon as they could see him. May 
remonstrated upon so unnecessary an exposure, but 
Flinn was inflexible, and in an evil hour the boat was 
directed to the shore. 

They quickly discovered, what ought to have been 
known before, that they could not float as swiftly 
after leaving the current as while borne along by it, and 
they were nearly double the time in making the shore 
that they had calculated upon. When within reach 
Flinn leaped fearlessly upon the hostile bank, and the 
boat grated upon the sand. At that moment five or six 



MAY, JOHNSTON, AND SKYLES, 211 

savages ran up out of breath, from the adjoining wood, 
and instantly seizing Flinn, began to fire upon the boat's 
crew. Johnston and Skyles sprang to their arms, in 
order to return the fire, while May, seizing an oar, at- 
tempted to regain the current. Fresh Indians arrived, 
however, in such rapid succession that the beach was 
quickly crowded with them, and May called out to his 
companions to cease firing and come to the oars. This 
was instantly done, but it was too late. 

The river, as we have already observed, was very high, 
and their clumsy and unwieldy boat had become entan- 
gled in the boughs of the trees which hung over the wa- 
ter, so that, after the most desperate efforts to get her 
off, they were compelled to relinquish the attempt in de- 
spair. During the whole of this time the Indians were 
pouring a heavy fire into the boat, at a distance not ex- 
ceeding ten paces. Their horses, of which they had a 
great number on board, had broken their halters, and, 
mad with terror, were plunging so furiously as to expose 
them to a danger scarcely less dreadful than that which 
menaced them from shore. In addition to this, none of 
them had ever beheld a hostile Indian before, with the 
exception of May, and the furious gestures and appalling 
3'ells of the enemy, struck a terror to their hearts which 
had almost deprived them of their faculties. 

Seeing it impossible to extricate themselves, they all 
lay down upon their faces in such parts of the boat as 
would best protect them from the horses, and awaited 
in passive helplessness the approach of the conquerors. 
The enemy, however, still declined boarding, and con- 
tented themselves with pouring in an incessant fire, by 
which all the horses were killed, and which at length be- 
gan to grow fatal to the crew\ One of the females re- 
ceived a ball in her mouth which had passed immedi- 
ately over Johnston's head, and almost instantly expired. 
Skyles, immediately afterward, was severely wounded 
in both shoulders, the ball striking the right shoulder 
blade and ranging transversely along his back. The 
fire seemed to grow hotter every moment, when at length 
May arose and waved his nightcap above his head as a 
signal of surrender. He instantly received a ball in the 



212 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

middle of the forehead, and fell perfectly dead by the 
side of Johnston, covering him with his blood. 

Now — at last — the enemy ventured to board. Throw- 
ing themselves into the water, with their tomahawks in 
their hands, a dozen or twenty swam to the boat, and 
began to climb the sides. Johnston stood ready to do 
the honors of the boat, and, presenting his hand to each 
Indian in succession, he helped them over the side to 
the number of twenty. Nothing could appear more cor- 
dial than the meeting. Each Indian shook him by the 
hand, with the usual salutation of "How de do?" in 
passable English, while Johnston encountered every 
visitor with an affectionate squeeze, and a forced smile, 
in which terror struggled with civility. The Indians 
then passed on to Skyles and the surviving Miss Fleming, 
where the demonstrations of mutual joy were not quite 
so .lively. Skyles was writhing under a painful wound, 
and the girl was sitting by the dead body of her sister. 

Having shaken hands with all of their captives, the 
Indians proceeded to scalp the dead, which was done 
with great coolness, and the reeking scalps were stretched 
and prepared upon hoops, for the usual process of dry- 
ing, immediately before the eyes of the survivors. The 
boat was then drawn ashore, and its contents examined 
with great greediness. Poor Skyles, in addition to the 
pain of his wounds, was compelled to witness the total 
destruction of his property by the hands of these greedy 
spoilers, who tossed his silks, cambric, and broadcloth 
into the dirt with the most reckless "indifference. At 
length they stumbled 'upon a keg of whisky. The prize 
was eagerly seized, and every thing else abandoned. The 
Indian who had found it instantly carried it ashore, and 
was followed by the rest with tumultuous delight. A 
large fire, nearly fifty feet long, was quickly kindled, 
and victors and vanquished indiscriminately huddled 
around it. 

As yet no attempt had been made to strip the pris- 
oners, but, unfortunately, Johnston was handsomely 
dressed in a broadcloth surtout, red vest, fine ruffled 
shirt, and a pair of new boots. The Indians began to 
eye him attentively, and at length one of them, whose 



JOHNSTON, FLINN, AND SKYLES. 213 

name he afterward learned was Chiekatommo, a Shaw- 
nee chief, came up to him and gave the skirt of his coat 
two or three hard pulls, accompanied by several ges- 
tures which were not to be mistaken. Johnston instantly 
stripped off his coat and very politely handed it to him. 
His red waistcoat was now exposed to full view, and at- 
tracted great attention. Chickatommo instantly ex- 
claimed, " Hugh ! you big cappatain ! " Johnston hastily 
assured him that he was mistaken; that he was no offi- 
cer, nor had any connection with military affairs what- 
ever. The Indian then drew himself up, pointed with 
his finger to his breast, and exclaimed, "Me cappatain ! 
all dese" — pointing to his men — "my sogers!'' The 
red waistcoat accompanied the surtout, and Johnston 
quickly stood shivering in his shirt and pantaloons. 

An old Indian then came up to him, and placing 
one hand upon his own shirt (a greasy, filthy garment, 
which had not, probably, been wa>hed for six months), 
and the other upon Johnston's ruffles, cried out in Engli.-h, 
"Swap! swap!" at the same time giving the nifties a 
gentle pull with his dirty fingers. Johnston, conquer- 
ing his disgust at the proposal, was about to comply, 
and had drawn his shirt over his head, when it was 
violently pulled back by another Indian, whose name 
he afterward learned was Tom Lewis. His new ally 
then reproached the other Indian severely for wishing 
to take the shirt from a prisoner's back in such cold 
weather, and instantly afterward threw his own blanket 
over Johnston's shoulders. The action was accom panied 
by a look so full of compassion and kindne.-s, that 
Johnston, who had expected far different treatment, 
was perfectly astonished. He now saw that native 
kindness of heart, and generosity of feeling, was by no 
means rare, even among savages. 

The two white men who had decoyed them ashore, 
and whose names were Divine and Thomas, now ap- 
peared, and took their seats by the side of the cap- 
tives. Sensible of the reproach to which they had 
exposed themselves, they hastened to offer an excuse 
for their conduct. They declared that they really had 
been taken in Kennedy's Bottom a few days before, 



214 WESTERN ADVENTURE, 

and that the Indians had compelled them, by threats 
of instant death in case of refusal, to act as they had 
done. They concluded by some common-place ex- 
pressions of regret for the calamity which they had 
occasioned, and declared that their own misery was 
aggravated at beholding that of their countrymen! 
In short, words were cheap with them, and they 
showered them out in profusion. But Johnston's and 
Skyles' sufferings had been, and still were, too severe 
to permit their resentment to be appeased by such 
light atonement. 

Their suspicions of the existence of willful and ma- 
lignant treachery on the part of the white men (at 
least one of them), were confirmed by the report of a 
negro, who quickly made his appearance, and who, 
as it appeared, had been taken in Kentucky a few 
days before. He declared that Thomas had been 
extremely averse to having any share in the treachery, 
but had been overruled by Divine, who alone had 
planned, and was most active in the execution of the 
project, having received a promise from the Indians 
that, in case of success, his own liberty should be re- 
stored to him. This report has been amply confirmed 
by subsequent testimony. Mr. Thomas is now living 
near Maysville, and has always sustained an excellent 
reputation. [This was written in 1832.] 

In a few minutes, six squaws, most of them very 
old, together with two white children, a girl and a boy, 
came down to the fire and seated themselves. The 
children had lately been taken from Kentucky. 
Skyles' wound now became excessively painful, and 
FliiHi, who, in the course of his adventurous life, had 
picked up some, knowledge of surgery, was permitted 
to examine it. He soon found it necessary to make 
an incision, which was done very neatly w T ith a razor. 
An old squaw then washed the wound, and having 
caught the bloody water in a tin cup, presented it to 
Skyles, and requested him to drink it, assuring him 
that it would greatly accelerate the cure. He thought 
it most prudent to comply. 

During the whole of this time, the Indians remained 



JOHXSTOX, FLIXN, AND SKYLES. 215 

silently smoking or lounging around the fire. Ko sen- 
tinels were posted in order to prevent a surprise, but 
each man's gun stood immediately behind him, with 
the breech resting upon the ground, and the barrel 
supported against a small pole, placed horizontally 
upon two forks. Upon the slighest alarm, every man 
could have laid his hand upon his own gun. Their 
captors were composed of small detachments from 
several tribes. Much the greater portion belonged to 
the Shawnees, but there were several Delawares, 
Wyandotts, and a few wandering Cherokees. After 
smoking, they proceeded to the division of their pris- 
oners. Flinn was given to a Shawnee warrior; Skyles 
to an old, crabbed, ferocious Indian of the same tribe, 
whose temper was sufficiently expressed in his coun- 
tenance; while Johnston was assigned to a young 
Shawnee chief, whom he represents as possessed of a 
disposition which would have done him honor in any 
age or in any nation ; his name was Messhawa, and he 
had just reached the age of manhood. His person 
was tall, and expressive rather of action than strength ; 
his air was noble, and his countenance mild, open, and 
peculiarly preposses.-ing. He evidently possessed great 
influence among those of his own tribe, which, as the 
sequel will show, he exerted with great activity on the 
side of humanity. The surviving Miss Fleming was 
given to the Cherokees, while the Wyandotts and the 
Delawares were allowed no share in the distribution. 
~No dissatisfaction, however, was expies-ed. The 
division had been proclaimed by an old chief in a loud 
voice, and a brief guttural monosyllable announced 
their concurrence. After the di>tribution of their cap- 
tives, Flinn, Divine, and Thomas, were ordered to 
prepare four additional oars, for the boat which they 
had taken, as they had determined to man it, and as- 
sail such other boats as should be encountered during 
their stay on the Ohio. These and several other 
preparations occupied the rest of the day. 

On the next morning, the Indians arose early, and 
prepared for an encounter, expecting, as usual, that 
boats would be passing. They dressed their scalp- 
20 



216 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

tufts, and painted their faces in the most approved 
manner, before a pocket-gla^s which each carried with 
him, grimacing and frowning in order to drill their 
features to the expression of the most terrific passions. 
About ten o'clock, a canoe containing six men was 
seen, slowly and laboriously ascending the river on the 
Kentucky shore. All the prisoners were instantly or- 
dered to descend the bank to the water's edge, and de- 
coy the canoe within reach of the Indian guns. John- 
ston, with whatever reluctance, was compelled to 
accompany the rest. Divine, on this, as on the former 
occasion, was peculiarly active and ingenious in strat- 
agems. He invented a lamentable story of their 
canoe having been overset, and of their starving con- 
dition, destitute as they were of either guns or axes. 

It was with agony that Johnston beheld the canoe 
put off from the Kentucky shore, and move rapidly 
toward them, struggling with the powerful current, 
which bore them so far below them that they could not 
distinguish the repeated signs which Johnston made, 
warning them to keep off. The Indians, perceiving 
how far the canoe was driven below them, ran rapidly 
down the river, under cover of the woods, and con- 
cealed themselves among the willows which grew in 
thick clusters upon the bank. The unsuspecting 
canoe-men soon drew near, and when within sixty 
yards, received a heavy fire, which killed every man 
on board. Some fell into the river, and overset the 
canoe, which drifted rapidly down the current, as did 
the bodies of the slain. The Indians sprang into the 
water, and dragging them ashore, tomahawked two of 
them who gave some signs of life, and scalped the 
whole. 

Scarcely had this been done, when a more splendid 
booty appeared in view. It happened that Captain 
Thomas Marshall, of" the Virginia Artillery, in com- 
pany with several other gentlemen, was descending the 
Ohio, having embarked only one day later than Slay. 
They had three boats, weakly manned, but heavily 
laden with horses and dry goods, intended for Lexing- 
ton. About twelve o'clock on the second day of 






JOHNSTON, FLYNN, AND SKYLES. 217 

Johnston's captivity, the little flotilla appeared about 
a mile above the point where the Indians stood. In- 
stantly all was bustle and activity. The additional 
oars were fixed to the boat, the savages instantly 
sprang on board, and the prisoners were compelled to 
station themselves at the oars, and were threatened 
with instant death unless they used their utmost ex- 
ertions to bring them along-side of the enemy. The 
three boats came down very rapidly, and were soon 
immediately opposite their enemy's. The Indians 
opened a heavy fire upon them, and stimulated their 
rowers to their utmost efforts. 

The boats became quickly aware of their danger, and 
a warm contest of skill and strength took place. 
There was an interval of one hundred yards between 
each of the three boats in view. The hindmost was 
for a time in great danger. Having but one pair of 
oars, and being weakly manned, she w T as unable to 
compete with the Indian boat, which greatly outnum- 
bered her, both in oars and men. The Indians quickly 
came within rifle-shot, and swept the deck w T ith an in- 
cessant fire, which rendered it extremely dangerous for, 
any of the crew, to show themselves. Captain Mar- 
shall was on board of the hindmost boat, and main- 
tained his position at the steering-oar in defiance of the 
shower of balls which flew around him. He stood in 
his shirt sleeves, with a red silk handkerchief bound 
around his head, which afforded a fair mark to the en- 
emy, and steered the boat with equal steadiness and 
skill, while the crew below relieved each other at the 
oars. 

The enemy lost ground from two circumstances. In 
their eagerness to overtake the whites, they left the 
current, and attempted to cut across the river from 
point to point, in order to shorten the distance. In 
doing so, however, they lost the force of the current, 
and quickly found themselves dropping astern. In ad- 
dition to this, the whites conducted themselves with 
equal coolness and dexterity. The second boat waited 
fur the hindmost, and received their crew on board, 
abandoning the goods and horses, without scruple, to 



218 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

the enemy. Being now more strongly manned, she 
shot rapidly ahead, and quickly overtook the foremost 
boat, which, in like manner, received her crew on 
board, abandoning the cargo as before ; and having six 
pair of oars, and being powerfully maimed, she was 
soon beyond the reach of the enemy's shot. The chase 
lasted more than an hour. For the first half hour, 
the fate of the foremost boat hung in mournful sus- 
pense, and Johnston, with agony, looked forward to 
the probability of its capture. The prisoners were 
compelled to labor hard at the oars, but they took 
care never to pull together, and by every means in 
their power, endeavored to favor the escape of their 
friends. 

At length, the Indians abandoned the pursuit, and 
turned their whole attention to the boats which had 
been deserted. The booty surpassed their most san- 
guine expectations. Several fine horses were on board, 
and flour, sugar, and chocolate in profusion. Another 
keg of whisky was found, and excited the same immod- 
erate joy as at first. It was unanimously determined to 
regile themselves in a regular feast, and instant prep- 
arations were made to carry their resolution into effect. 
A large kettle of chocolate and sugar, of which the 
sugar formed the greater part, was set upon the fire, 
which an old squaw stirred with a dirty stick. John- 
ston was promoted on the spot to the rank of cook, and 
received orders to bake a number of flour cakes in the 
fire. A deer-skin, which had served for a saddle 
blanket, and was most disgustingly stained by having 
been applied to a horse's sore back, was given him as a 
tray, and being repeatedly ordered to "make haste," 
he entered upon his new office with great zeal. 

By mixing a large portion of sugar with some dump- 
lings, which he had boiled in chocolate, he so delighted 
the palates of the Indians, that they were enthusiastic 
in their praises, and announced their intention of keep- 
ing him in his present capacity as long as he remained 
with them. The two kegs, which had been carefully 
guarded, were now produced, and the mirth began to 
border on the "fast and furious." A select band, as 



JOHNSTON, FLINN, AND SKYLES. 219 

usual, remained sober, to maintain order and guard 
against surprise, but the prisoners were invited to get 
drunk with their red brothers. Johnston and Skyles 
declined the invitation, but Flinn, without waiting to 
be asked twice, instantly joined the revelers, and 
quickly became as drunk as any of them. In this sit- 
uation he entered into a hot dispute with an Indian, 
which, after much abuse on both sides, terminated in 
blows, and his antagonist received a sad battering. 
Several of his tribe drew their knives, and rushed upon 
Flinn with fury, but were re-trained amid peals of 
laughter by the others, who declared that Flinn had 
proved himself a man, and should have fair play. 

Jn the meantime, Johnston and Skyles had been 
bound and removed to a convenient distance from the 
drinking party, with the double design of saving their 
lives, and guarding against escape. While lying in this 
manner, and totally unable to help themselves, they 
beheld, with terror, one of the revelers staggering to- 
ward them, with a drawn knife in his hand, and mut- 
tering a profusion of drunken curses. He stopped 
within a few paces of them, and harangued them with 
great vehemence, for nearly a minute, until he had 
worked himself up to a state of insane fury, when, 
suddenly uttering a startling yell, he sprung upon the 
prostrate body of Skyles, and seizing him by the hair 
endeavored to scalp him. Fortunately he was too 
much intoxica-ed to exert his usual dexterity, and be- 
fore he had succeeded in his design, the guard ran up 
at full speed, and seizing him by the shoulders, hurled 
him violently backwards to the distance of several 
yards. The drunken beast rolled upon the ground, and 
with difficulty recovering his feet, staggered off, mut- 
tering curses against the white man, the guard himself, 
and the whole world. Skyles had only felt the point 
of the knife, but had given up his scalp for lost, and 
rubbed the crown of his head several times with fever- 
ish apprehensions, before he could be satisfied that his 
scalp was still safe. 

No other incident occurred during the night, and on 
the following morning the Indians separated. Those 



220 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

to whom Flinn belonged, remained at the river in ex- 
pectation of intercepting other boats, while Johnston's 
party struck through the wilderness, in a steady direc- 
tion for their towns. During their first day's march, 
he afforded much amusement to his captors. In the 
boat abandoned by Captain Marshall, they had found 
a milk cow, haltered in the usual manner. Upon leav- 
ing the river, they committed her to the care of John- 
ston, requiring him to lead her by the halter. Being 
totally unaccustomed to this method of traveling, she 
proved very refractory, and perplexed him exceed r 
ingly. When he took one side of a tree, she regularly 
chose the other. Whenever he attempted to lead her, 
she planted her feet firmly before her, and refused to 
move a step. When he strove to drive her, she ran off 
into the bushes, dragging him after her, to the no small 
injury of his person and dress. 

The Indians were in a roar of laughter throughout 
the whole day, and appeared highly to enjoy his per- 
plexity. At night they arrived at a small encamp- 
ment, where they had left their women and children. 
Here, to his great joy, Johnston was relieved of his 
charge, and saw her slaughtered with the utmost grat- 
ification. At night, he suffered severely by the ab- 
sence of the benevolent Messhawa, to whose charge, 
as we have already said, he had been committed. The 
Indians were apprehensive of pursuit, and directed 
Messhawa, at the head of several warriors, to bring up 
the rear, and give them seasonable warning of any at- 
tempt on the part of the whites to regain their prison- 
ers. In his absence, he had been committed to an In- 
dian of very different character. 

While his new master was engaged in tying his 
hands, as usual, for the night, he ventured to complain 
that the cord was drawn too tight, and gave him un- 
necessary pain. The Indian flew into a passion, ex- 
claiming, "D n you soul!" and drew the cord 

with all the violence of which he was capable, until 
it was completely buried in the flesh. Johnston, in 
consequence, did not sleep for a moment, but passed 
the whole night in exquisite torture. In the morning, 



JOHNSTON, FLINN, AND SKYLES. 221 

Messhawa came up, and finding his prisoner in a high 
fever, and his hands excessively swollen, instantly cut 
the cords, and exchanged some high words with the 
other Indian upon the subject. 

The march was recommenced, and Johnston could 
not avoid congratulating himself every moment upon 
his good fortune in having Messhawa for his guide. 
Skyles' master seemed to take pleasure in tormenting 
him. In addition to an enormous quantity of baggage, 
he compelled him to carry his rifle, by which his raw 
wound was perpetually irritated, and prevented from 
healing. Messhawa permitted Johnston to share his 
own mess upon all occasions; while the savage to 
whom Skyles belonged, would scarcely permit him to 
eat a dozen mouth! ills a day, and never without in> 
bittering his meat with curses and blows. In a few 
days they arrived at the Scioto River, which, from the 
recent rains, was too high to admit of being forded. 
The Indians were instantly employed in constructing 
a raft, and it was necessary to carry one very large 
log several hundred yards. 

Two Indians with a handspike supported the lighter 
end, while the butt was very charitably bestow r ed upon 
Johnston alone. Not daring to murmur, he exerted 
his utmost strength, and, aided by several Indians, with 
some difficulty succeeded in placing the enormous bur- 
den upon his shoulder. He quickly found, however, 
that the weight was beyond his strength, and, wishing 
to give his two companions in front warning of his in- 
ability to support it, he called to them in English to 
" take care ! " They did not understand him, however, 
and' continued to support it, when, finding himself in 
danger of being crushed to death, he dropped the log 
so suddenly that both the Indians were knocked down, 
and lay for a time without sense or motion. They 
soon sprang up, however, and, drawing their tomahawks, 
would instantly have relieved Johnston of all his 
troubles hnd not the other Indians, amid peals of laugh- 
ter, restrained them and compelled them to vent their 
spleen in curses, which were showered upon "Ketepels," 
as he was called, for the space of an hour, with great fury. 



222 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

After crossing the Scioto, the Indians displayed a dis- 
position to loiter and throw away time, but little in 
unison with Johnston's feelings, who was anxious to 
reach their towns as speedily as possible, flattering him- 
self with the hope that some benevolent trader would 
purchase him of the Indians and restore him to liberty. 
They amused themselves at a game called "Nosey," 
With a pack of cards which had been found in one of 
the abandoned boats. The pack is equally divided be- 
tween two of them, and by some process which John- 
ston did not understand, each endeavored to get all the 
cards into his own possession. The winner had a right to 
ten fillips at his adversary's nose, which the latter was 
required to sustain with inflexible gravity, as the winner 
was entitled to ten additional fillips for every smile 
which he succeeded in forcing from him. At this game 
they would be engaged for a whole day, with the keenest 
interest, the bystanders looking on with sidelight 
scarcely inferior to that of the gamblers themselves, 
and laughing immoderately when the penalty was ex- 
acted. 

When gaming, they were unusually kind to their 
prisoners; but this ray of sunshine was frequently very 
suddenly overcast. Johnston ventured to ask an old 
Shawnee chief how far they would be forced to travel 
before reaching his village. The old man very good- 
naturedly assured him, by drawing a diagram upon the 
sand with a stick, pointing out the situation of the 
Ohio River, of the Scioto, and of the various Indian 
villages, and pointing to the sun, he waved his hand 
once for every day which they would employ in the 
journey. Johnston then ventured to ask "how many 
inhabitants his village contained." The old man re- 
plied that the Shawnees had once been a great nation ; 
but (and here his eyes flashed fire, and he worked him- 
self into a furious passion) the long-knives had killed 
nearly the whole of his nation. " However," continued 
he, "so long as there is a Shawnee alive, we \\\\\ fight! 
fight! fight! When no Shawnee, then no fight." 

The prisoners were also in great danger whenever 
the Indians passed through a forest which had been 






JOHNSTON, FLINN, AND SKYLES, 223 

surveyed, and where the marks of the ax upon the 
trees were evident. They would halt upon coming to 
such a tree, and after a few minutes' silence, would 
utter the most terrible yells, striking the trees w r ith 
their hatchets, and cursing the prisoners with a fierce- 
ness which caused them often to abandon all hopes of 
life. On one occasion, they passed suddenly from the 
most ferocious state of excitement to the opposite ex- 
treme of merriment, at a slight disaster which befell 
Johnston. They were often compelled to ford creeks; 
but upon one occasion, they attempted to pass upon a 
log. The morning was bitterly cold and frosty, and the 
log having been barked, was consequently very slippery. 

In passing upon this bridge, Johnston's foot slipped 
and he fell into the cold water w T ith an outcry so sud- 
den and shrill that the whole party, which the instant 
before had been inflamed with rage, burst at once into 
loud laughter, which, at intervals, was maintained for 
several miles. Sometimes they amused themselves by 
compelling their prisoners to dance, causing them to pro- 
nounce, in a tone bordering on music, the words, "Kom- 
ne-kah! He-kah-kah ! Was-sat-oo — Hos-ses-kah ! " and 
this monotonous and fatiguing exercise was occasionally 
relieved by the more exciting one of springing over a 
large fire wdien the blaze w r as at its highest, in which they 
could only escape injury by great activity. 

Their painful journey had now lasted nearly a month, 
and the Indian towns were yet at a great distance. 
Hitherto, Skyles and Johnston had remained together; 
but by the whimsical fancy of their captors, they w r ere 
now separated. Skyles was borne off to the Miami towns, 
while Johnston was destined for Sandusky. A few 
days after this separation, Johnston's party fell in with, 
a Wyandott, and a negro man who, having run away 
from Kentucky, had been taken up by the Wyandott 
and retained as an assistant in a very lucrative trade 
which he was at that time carrying on with the Indians 
of the interior. He was in the habit of purchasing 
whisky, powder, blankets, etc., at Detroit, generally 
upon credit, packing them upon horses into the interior, 
and exchanging them, at a profit of nearly one thousand 
21 



224 



WESTERN ADVENTURE. 



per cent., for furs and hides. This casual rencounter 
in the wilderness was followed by great demonstrations 
of joy on both sides. The trader produced his rum, 
the Shawnees their merchandise, and a very brisk ex- 
change ensued. 

Johnston's boots, for which he had paid eight dollars 
in Virginia, were gladly given for a pint of rum; and 
other articles were sold at a proportionate price. John- 
ston, as before, was removed from the immediate neigh- 
borhood of the revelers, and committed to the care of 
two sober Indians, with strict injunctions to prevent 
his escape. They accordingly bound him securely, and, 
passing the ends of the cord under their own bodies, 
lay down to sleep — one upon each side of their prisoner. 
At midnight, Johnston was awakened by a heavy rain, 
although his guards slept on with most enviable com- 
posure. Unable to extricate himself, and fearful of 
awakening them, he was endeavoring to submit with 
patience, when the negro appeared, and very courteously 
invited him to take shelter in his tent, which stood with- 
in fifty yards of the spot where he lay. 

Johnston was beginning to explain to his black friend 
the impossibility of moving without the consent, of his 
guards, when they suddenly sprang to their feet, and, 
seizing the negro by the throat, and at the same time 
grasping Johnston's collar, they uttered the alarm-hailoo 
in the most piercing tones. The whole band of drunken 
Indians instantly repeated the cry, and ran up, toma- 
hawk in hand, and with the most ferocious gestures. 
Johnston gave himself up for lost, and the negro looked 
white with terror; but their enemies conducted them- 
selves with more discretion than, from their drunken 
condition, could have been anticipated. They seized 
Johnston, bore him off a few paces into the woods, and 
questioned him closely as to the conference between him- 
self and the negro. He replied by simply and clearly 
stating the truth. They then grappled the negro, and, 
menacing him with their knives, threatened to take his 
scalp on the spot if he did not tell the truth. His story 
agreed exactly with. Johnston's, and the Indians became 
satisfied that no plot had been concerted. 



JOHNSTON, FLINN, AND SKYLES. 225 

The incident, however, had completely sobered them, 
and for several hours the rum-cask gave way to the 
dancing-ring, which was formed in front of the negro's 
tent, where Johnston had been permitted, after the alarm 
subsided, to take shelter from the rain. He quickly 
fell asleep, but was grievously tormented by the night- 
mare. He dreamed that he was drowning in the middle 
of the creek which he had crossed on that morning; and 
his respiration became so laborious and painful that he 
at length awoke. The song and the dance were still 
going on around him, and the cause of his unpleasant 
dream was made manifest. A huge Indian had very 
composedly seated himself upon his breast, and' was 
smoking a long pipe and contemplating the dancers, 
apparently very well satisfied with his seat. Johnston 
turned himself upon his side and threw the Indian off. 
He did not appear to relish the change of place much, 
but soon settled himself and continued to smoke with 
unin terrupted gravity. 

At daylight, a new scene presented itself. The war- 
riors painted themselves in the most fiightful colors, 
and perlormed a war-dance with the usual accompani- 
ments. A stake, painted in alternate stripes of black 
and vermilion, w T as fixed in the ground, and the dancers 
moved in rapid but measured evolutions around it. 
They recounted, with great energy, the wrongs which 
they had received from the whites: Their lands had 
been taken from them, their corn cut up, their villages 
burnt, their friends slaughtered; every injury which 
they hail received was dwelt upon, until their passions 
had become inflamed beyond all control. Suddenly, 
Ciiickatommo darted from the circle of dancers, and, 
with eyes flashing fire, ran up to the spot where John- 
ston was sitting calmly contemplating the spectacle be- 
fore him. When within reach, he struck him a furious 
blow with his fist, and was preparing to repeat it, 
when Johnston seized him by the arms and hastily de- 
manded the cause of such unprovoked violence. 

Chickatommo, grinding his teeth with rage, shouted, 
"Sit down ! sit down! " Johnston obeyed, and the In- 
dian, perceiving the two white children within ten steps 



JOHNSTON, FLINN, AND SKYLES. 227 

(the Mingo) should either procure her another hus- 
band or lay down his own life as a penalty for the 
slain Wyandott. 

He added that he was too poor to procure her an- 
other husband, unless he should take that honorable 
office upon himself — for which lie had but small incli- 
nation, the squaw in question being well stricken in 
years, tolerably crooked, and withal a most terrible 
scold — and that he must submit to the other alternative 
and lay down his life, unless the Shawnees would have 
compassion upon him, and give him Johnston, who (he 
said) being young and handsome, would doubtless be 
acceptable to the squaw aforesaid, and console her faith- 
ful heart for the loss of her iormer hu>band. He urged 
his suit with so much earnestness that the Shawnees 
relented and assured him that Johnston should instantly 
be delivered into his hands. r l his was ac( ordingly done, 
without the slightest regard to the prisoner's inclination ; 
and within an hour the whole party took have of him, 
shaking him heartily by the hand and congratulating 
him upon his approaching happiness, telling him that 
there was a fine squaw waiting for him in the Wyan- 
dott town. 

Johnston would have liked the adoption better with- 
out the appendage of the bride, but thinking that, if 
she were one of the furies, her society would be prefer- 
able to the stake and hot irons, he determined to make 
the best of his condition, and wear his shackles as easily 
as possible, until an opportunity offered of effecting his 
escape. His new master, after lingering around the 
late encampment, until late in the day, at length 
shouldered his wallet, and moved off by the same route 
which the Shawnees had taken. By noon, on the fol- 
lowing day, they came up with them, when a curious 
scene ensued. As soon as the Shawnees had become 
sober, they repented their late liberality, and determined 
to reclaim their prisoner; the Mingo stoutly demurred, 
and a long argument took place, accompanied by an- 
imated gestures, and not a few oaths, on both sides. At 
length Messhawa put an end to the wrangling by seiz- 
ing a horse by the halter and ordering Johnston in- 



p 



228 



WESTERN ADVENTURE. 



stantly to mount. He then sprang upon another, and, 
applying the lash smartly to both horses, he quickly 
bore the prisoner beyond the sound of the Mingo's 
voice. 

An hour's ride brought them to Upper Sandusky, 
where Messhawa dismounted, and awaited the arrival 
of Chickatomm o. He soon appeared, accompanied by 
his party, and followed by the discontented Miugo. 
This in m regarded Johnston, from time to time, with 
so earnest a countenance, and appeared so desirous of 
approaching him, th it the later became alarmed, lest, 
in the rage of disappointment, he should inflict upon 
the prisoner the vengeance which he dared not indulge 
against the Shawnees. But his fears were quickly re- 
lieved. The Mingo dogged him so faithfully, that he 
at length came upon him while alone, and, approach- 
ing him with a good-natured smile, presented a small 
pamphlet, which Johnston had dropped on the preced- 
ing day. Having done this, he shook him by the hand, 
and immediately left the village. 

At Sandusky, Johnston became acquainted with Mr. 
Duchouquet, a French trader, who had, for several 
years, resided among the Indians, and was extensively 
engaged in the far trade. To him he recounted his 
adventures, and earnestly solicited his good offices in 
de.ivering him from the Indians. Duchouquet promptly 
assured him that every exertion should be used for that 
purpose, and lost no time in redeeming his pledge. That 
evening he spoke to Cuickatommo, and offeied a liberal 
ransom for the prisoner, but his efforts were fruitless. 
The Shawnee chief did not object to the price, but de- 
clared that no sum should induce them to give him up 
until they had first taken him to their towns. This 
answer was quickly reported to Johnston, and filled 
him with despair. But, as the Shawnee party were 
engaged in another drinking-bout, he entreated Du- 
chouquet to seize the favorable moment, when their 
hearts were mellowed by rum, and repeat his off r. 
The Frenchman complied, and was again peremptorily 
refused. Johnston now desired him to inquire, of 
Chickatommo, the name of the town to which he waa 



JOHNSTON, FLINN, AND SKYLES, 229 

to be taken, and the fate which was in reserve for 
him, upon his arrival there. 

To the first question, Chickatommo promptly replied 
that the prisoner was to be carried to the Miami villages; 
but to the second, he gave no satisfactory answer, being 
probably ignorant himself upon the subject. The men- 
tion of the Miami villages completely extinguished every 
spark of hope which still existed in Johnston's breast, 
as those towns had, heretofore, been the grave of every 
white prisoner who had visited them. He had also 
heard that the Indians carefully concealed from their 
victims the fate which awaited them, either from some 
instinctive feelings of compassion, or, more probably, 
from policy, in order to prevent the desperate efforts to 
escape, which were usual with prisoners who were in- 
formed of their destiny. Under these circumstances, 
he gloomily abandoned himself to despair, and lay 
down in helpless expectation of his iate. But no 
sooner had he abandoned the case, than fortune, as 
usual, put in her oar, and displayed that capricious 
but omnipotent power for which she has so long and 
so deservedly been celebrated. The same Wyandott 
trader, who had encountered them in the wilderness, 
now again appeared at Sandusky, with several horses 
laden with kegs of rum, and, in the course of two 
days, completely stripped them of every skin, blanket, 
and article of merchandise which had escaped his 
rapacity before. 

On the morning of the third day, Chickatommo and 
his party awoke, as from a dream, and found themselves 
poor, destitute, ragged, and hungry, without the means 
of supplying any of their wants. Ashamed to return 
to their village in this condition, after having sent be- 
fore them so magnificent a description of their wealth, 
they determined to return to the Ohio, in hopes of 
again replenishing their purses, at the expense of 
emigrants. They accordingly appeared, of their own 
accord, before Duchouquet, and declared that, as the 
scalp of their prisoner would be transported more 
easily than his person, they had determined to burn 
him on that evening ; but, if he still wished to purchase 



230 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

him, they would forego the expected entertainment for 
his sake, and let him have the prisoner upon good 
terms. Duchouquet eagerly accepted the offer, and 
instantly counted down six hundred silver brooches, 
the ordinary price of a prisoner. The Indians lost no 
time in delivering him into the trader's hands, and, 
having taken an affectionate leave of him, they in- 
stantly set out for the Ohio. 

Johnston's gratification may easily be conceived, but 
on the following day his apprehensions returned with 
renewed vigor. To his great surprise, Chickatommo 
and his parly again made their appearance at Sandusky, 
having abandoned their contemplated trip to the Ohio, 
and loitered about the village for several days, without 
any visible cause for such capricious conduct. John- 
ston, recollecting their former whimsical bargain with 
the Mingo, was apprehensive that the same scene was to 
be repeated, and, resolving not to be taken alive, he 
armed himself, and awaited, calmly, their determina- 
tion. His suspicions, however, were entirely groundless. 
They passed him several times without the slightest 
notice, and at length set off, in earnest, for Detroit, 
leaving him at full liberty with his friend Duchouquet. 

On the evening of their departure, a Delaware ar- 
rived from the Miami villages, with the heart-rending 
intelligence, that his unfortunate companion, Flinn, 
had been burned at the stake a few days before. The 
savage declared that he himself had been present at 
the spectacle, had assisted in torturing him, and had 
afterward eaten a portion of his flesh, which, he de- 
clared, " was sweeter than bear's meat." The intel- 
ligence was fully confirmed on the following day, by 
a Canadian trader, who had just left the Miami towns. 
He stated that Flinn had been taken to their villages, 
and, at first, had entertained strong hopes of being 
adopted, as his bold, frank, and fearless character had 
made considerable impression upon his enemies. But 
the arrival of some wild chiefs, from the extreme 
northern tribes, most of whom were cannibals, had 
completely changed his prospects. A wild council was 
held, in which the most terrible sentiments, with regard 



JOHNSTON, FLINN, AND SKYLES. 231 

to the whites, were uttered. The custom of adopting 
prisoners was indignantly reprobated as frivolous and 
absurd, and the resolution proclaimed, that henceforth 
no quarter should be given, to any age, sex or condition. 

Fiinn was accordingly seized and fastened to the 
stake. The trader was one of the spectators. Flinn 
quickly observed him, and asked if he was not ashamed 
to witness the distress of a fellow-creature, in that 
manner, without making some effort to relieve him ; 
upon which he instantly ran to the v91age and brought 
out several kegs of rum, which he offered, as a ransom, 
for the prisoner. The Indians, who, by this time, were 
in a terrible rage, rejected the offer with fierceness, and 
split the heads of the kegs with their tomahawks, suffer- 
ing the liquor to flow unheeded upon the ground. The 
disappointed trader again returned to the village, and 
brought out six hundred silver brooches. They, in turn, 
were rejected with additional fury, and not without a 
threat of treating him in the same manner if he again 
interfered. The trader, finding every effort vain, com- 
municated his ill success to Flinn, who heard him with 
composure, and barely replied, ''Then all I have to 
say is, God have mercy vpon my soul ! " 

The scene of torture then commenced, amid whoops 
and yells, which struck terror to the heart of the trader, 
but which the prisoner bore with the most heroic for- 
titude. Not a groan escaped him. He walked calmly 
around the stake for several hours, until his fle.-h was 
roasted, and the fire had burned down. An old squaw 
then approached, in order to rekindle it, but Flinn, 
watching his opportunity, gave her so furious a kick in 
the breast that she fell back totally insensible, and for 
several minutes she was unable to take any further 
share in the ceremony. The warriors then bored his 
ankles, and passing thongs through the sinews, con- 
fined them closely to the stake, so that he was unable 
afterward to offer the same resistance. His sufferings 
continued for many hours, until they were at length 
terminated by the tomahawk. 

Within a few days he also heard of Skyles. After 
leaving Johnston, this gentleman had been conducted 



232 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

to one of the towns on the Miami of the lake, near the 
scene of Flinn's execution, where, as usual, he was 
compelled to run the gauntlet. The Indian boys were 
his chief tormentors. One of the little urchins displayed 
particular address and dexterity in his infernal art. 
He provided himself with a stout switch taken from a 
thorn-tree, upon which one of the largest thorns had 
been permitted to remain. As Skyles passed him, he 
drove the keen instrument up to the head in his naked 
back. The switch was rested from his grasp, and was 
borne by Skyles, sticking in his back, to the end of his 
painful career. He continued in the hands of the same 
crabbed master who had taken such pleasure in tor- 
menting him upon the march through the wilderness; 
but had found means to make himself so acceptable to 
his squaw, that his time was rendered more agreeable 
than he could have anticipated. 

He carried water for her, gathered her wood, and 
soothed her sullen temper by a thousand artifices, so 
'that her husband, who stood in some awe of his help- 
mate, was compelled to abate somewhat of his chur- 
lishness. He at lengih reaped the fruit of his civility. 
The squaw returned one evening alone to the wigwam, 
and informed Skyles, in confidence, that his death had 
been determined on in council, and that the following 
day had been appointed for his execution. He at first 
doubted the truth of this startling intelligence, and 
retiring to rest as usual, feigned to be asleep, but 
listened attentively to the conversation of the old 
squaw with her daughter, a young girl of fifteen. His 
douhts were quickly dispelled. His approaching ex- 
ecution was the subject of conversation between them, 
and their language soon became warm. The old lady 
insisted upon it that he was a good man, and ought to 
be saved ; while the girl exulted at the idea of witness- 
ing his agonies, declaring repeatedly that the " white 
people were all devils," and ought to be put to death. 

At length they ceased wrangling, and composed 
themselves to rest. Skyles then arose, took down his 
master's rifle, shot bag, and corn pouch, and, stepping 
lightly over the bodies of the family, quickly gained the 



JOHNSTON, FLINN, AND SKYLES. 233 

wood, and bent his steps to the bank of the Miami 
River. Without an instant's delay, he plunged into 
the stream and swam to the opposite side. In doing so, 
however, he completely ruined his rifle, and was com- 
pelled to throw it away. Retaining the wallet of 
parched corn, he directed his steps to the southward, 
intending, if possible, to strike the settlements in Ken- 
tucky, but so poor a woodsman was he that, after a 
hard march of six hours, he again stumbled upon the 
Miami, within one hundred yards of the spot where he 
had crossed it before. While anxiously meditating 
upon the best means of avoiding the dangers which 
surrounded him, lie heard the tinkle of a bell, within 
a few hundred yards of the spot where he stood, and 
directing his steps toward it, he saw a horse grazing 
quietly upon the rank grass of the bottom. 

Instantly mounting him, he again attempted to move 
in a southern d-re-.tion, but was compelled by the thick- 
ness of the wood, and the quantity of fallen timber, to 
change his course so frequently that he again became 
bewildered, and, abandoning his horse, determined to 
prosecute his journey on foot. Daylight iound him in 
a deep forest, without a path to direct him, without the 
means of procuring food, and without the slightest 
knowledge of any of those signs by which an experi- 
enced woodsman \< enabled to direct his course through 
a trackless wilderness with sueh unerring certainty. 
Fearful of stumbling unawares upon some Indian 
town, he lay concealed all day, and at night recom- 
menced his journey. But fresh perplexities awaited 
him at every st p. He was constantly encountering 
either a small village or a solitary wigwam, from which 
he was frequently chased by the Indian dogs with such 
loud and furious barking that he more than once con- 
sidered detection inevitable. 

In this manner he wandered through the woods for 
several days, until, faint with hunger, he determined at 
all risks to enter an Indian village, and either procure 
food or perish in the attempt. Having adopted this res- 
olution, he no longer loitered on the way, but throwing 
himself boldly upon the first path which presented it- 



234 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

self, he followed it at a brisk and steady pace, careless 
of where it might lead. About four o'clock in the after- 
noon, he came so suddenly upon a village that it was 
impossible to retreat without exposing himself to detec- 
tion, and, as he considered it madness to enter it in day- 
light, he concealed himself among some old logs until 
nightfall, when he sallied out like an owl or a wolf in 
search of something to allay the piercing pangs of 
hunger. Nothing could be picked up upon the skirts 
of the village, as neither roasting-ears nor garden fruit 
were in season, and it became necessary to enter the 
town or perish of hunger. 

Fortunately, the embers of a decayed fire lay near 
him, in which he found a sufficient quantity of coal with 
which to black his face and hands; and, having com- 
pletely disguised himself in this manner, he boldly 
marched into the hostile town to take such fate as it 
should please heaven to send. He luckily had with 
him the remnant of a blanket, which he disposed about 
his person in the usual Indian manner, and imitating at 
the same time their straggling gait, he kept the middle 
of the street and parsed unquestioned by squaw or war- 
rior. Fortunately for him, the streets were almost en- 
tirely deserted, and, as he afterward learned, most of 
the warriors were absent. Security, however, was not 
his present object so much as food, which, indeed, had 
now become indispensable. Yet how was he to obtain 
it? He would not have hesitated to steal, had he known 
where to look for the larders ; nor to beg, had he not 
known that he would have been greeted with the toma- 
hawk. 

While slowly marching through the village, and rumi- 
nating upon some feasible plan of satisfying his wants, 
he saw light in a wigwam at some distance, which gave 
it the appearance of a trader's booth. Cautiously ap- 
proaching, he satisfied himself of the truth of his con- 
jecture. A white man was behind a counter dealing 
out various articles to several squaws who stood around 
him. After some hesitation, Skvles entered the shop, 
and in bad English asked for rum. The trader regard- 
ed him carelessly, and without appearing surprised at 



JOHNSTON, FL1NN, AND SKYLES. 235 

either his dress or manner, replied that he had no rum 
in the house, but would go and bring him some, if he 
could wait a few moments. So saying, he leaped care- 
lessly over the counter and left the shop. Skyles in- 
stantly followed him, and stopping him in the street, 
briefly recounted his story, and throwing himself upon 
his mercy, earnestly implored his assistance. 

The trader appeared much astonished, and visibly 
hesitated. Quickly recovering hiimelf, however, he 
assured Skyles that he Would use every effort to save 
him, although in doing so he himself would incur great 
risk. He then informed him that a band of Shawnees 
had appeared at the village on that very morning in keen 
pursuit of a prisoner, who (they said) had escaped a few 
days before, and whom they supposed to be still in the 
neighborhood, from the zigzag manner in which he had 
traveled. Many of the warriors of the town were at 
that moment assisting the Shawnees in hunting for him. 
He added that they might be expected to return in the 
morning, in which case, if discovered, his death would 
be certain. Skyles listened in great alarm to his ac- 
count of the danger which surrounded him. If he Lft 
the village, he could scarcely expect to escape the nu- 
merous bands who were ranging the forest in search of 
him. If he remained wheie he w'as, the danger was 
still more imminent. 

Under these circumstances, he earnestly requested the 
advice of the trader as to the best means of avoiding 
his enemies. The man replied that he must instantly 
leave the village, as keen eyes would be upon him in 
the morning, and his design would be penetrated; that 
he must conceal himseif in a hazel thicket, which he 
pointed out to him, where in a short time he would join 
him with food, and where they could arrange some 
feasible plan of escape. They then separated, the 
trader returning to his shop, and Skyhs repairing to 
the friendly thicket. Here within a few minutes he 
was joined by his friend, who informed him that he saw 
but one possible mode of escape ; that it would be im- 
possible for him either to remain where he was, or to 
attempt to reach the white settlements through the 



236 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

woods; but he declared that if he was diligent and ac- 
tive, he might overtake a boat which had left them that 
morning for Lake Erie, and offered him his own skiff 
for that purpose. 

He added that the boat was laden with furs, and was 
commanded by an English captain, who would gladly 
receive him on board. Skyles eagerly embraced the 
offer, and they proceeded without a moment's delay to 
the river shore, where a handsome skiff with two oars 
lay in readiness for the water. Having taken an af- 
fectionate leave of the trader, Skyles put off from 
shore, and quickly gaining the current, rowed until day- 
light with the zeal of a man who knew the value of 
life and liberty. His greatest apprehension was that 
his flight would be discovered in time to prevent his 
reaching the boat; and at every rustling of the bushes 
on the bank of the river, or at every cry of the owl 
which arose from the deep forest around him, the blood 
would rush back to his heart, and he would fancy that 
his enemies were upon him. At length, between daw'n 
and sunrise, he beheld the boat, which he had pursued 
so eagerly, only a few hundred yards in front, drifting 
slowly and calmly down the stream. 

He redoubled his exertions, and in half an hour w r as 
within hailing distance. He called aloud for them to 
halt, but no answer was returned. Upon coming along- 
side he was unable to see a single man on board. Sup- 
posing her crew asleep, he mounted the side of the ves- 
sel, and saw the man at the helm enjoying a very com- 
fortable nap with the most enviable disregard to the 
dangers which might await him in the waters of Lake 
Erie, which were then in sight. The helmsman started 
up, rubbed his eyes, looked around him, and after salut- 
ing his visitor, observed that "he had almost fallen 
asleep." Skyles agreed with him, and anxiously in- 
quired for the captain. The latter soon made his ap- 
pearance in a w r oolen nightcap, and the negotiation 
commenced. The captain asked who he was, and what 
was the cause of so early a visit? Skyles was fearful 
of committing himself by a premature disclosure of his 
real character, and replied, that he was an adventurer 



JOHNSTON, FLINN, AND SKYLES. 237 

who had been looking for laud upon the Auglaize ; but 
that he had been driven from the country by the ap- 
prehension of outrage from the Indians, who had lately 
become unusually incensed against the whites. 

The captain coolly replied that he had heard of one 
white man having been burned a few days before at one 
of the Miami villages, and had understood that another 
had avoided the same fate only by running away into 
the woods, where, unless retaken, it was supposed he 
would perish, as he had shown himself a miserable 
woodsman, and as numerous parties were in search of 
him. After a moment's hesitation, Skyles frankly ac- 
knowledged himself to be that miserable fugitive, and 
threw himself at once upon their mercy. The English 
captain heard him apparently without surprise, and 
granted his request without hesitation. All was done 
with the utmost sang froid. In a short time they ar- 
rived at Detroit, where, to his no small astonishment, 
he beheld Chickatommo, Messhawa, and their party, 
who had just arrived from Sandusky, after the sale of 
Johnston. Carefully avoiding them, he lay close in the 
house of a trader until the following day, when another 
large party arrived in pursuit of him (having traced 
him down the river to Lake Erie), and paraded the 
streets for several days, uttering loud complaints against 
those who had robbed them of their prisoner. Poor 
Skyles entertained the most painful apprehensions for 
several days, but was at length relieved by their dt part- 
ure. As soon as possible, he obtained a passage to 
Montreal, and returned in safety to the United States. 

In noticing the fate of the companions of Johnston's 
captivity, we are naturally led to say something of the 
only female of the party. The reader can not have 
forgotten that one of the Miss Flemings was killed upon 
the Ohio, and that the other became a prisoner and was 
assigned to the Cherokees. Johnston had been much 
•surprised at the levity of her conduct, when first taken. 
Instead of appearing dejected at the dreadful death of 
her sister, and the still more terrible fate of her friends, 
she never appeared more lively or better reconciled to 
her fate than while her captors lingered upon the banks 



238 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

of the Ohio. Upon the breaking up of the party, the 
Clierokees conducted their prisoner toward the Miami 
village-, and Johnston saw nothing more of her until 
after his own liberation. While he remained at the 
house of Mr. Duchouquet, the small party of Cliero- 
kees to whom she belonged, suddenly made their ap- 
pearance in the village, in a condition so tattered and 
dilapidated as to satisfy every one that all their booty 
had been wasted with their usual improvidence. 

Miss Fleming's appearance, particularly, had been 
entirely changed. All the levity which had astonished 
Johnston so much on the banks of the Ohio, was com- 
pletely gone. Her dress was tattered, her cheeks sunken, 
her eyes discolored by weeping, and her whole manner 
expressive of the most heartfelt wretchedness. John- 
ston addressed her with kindness, and inquired the cause 
of so great a change, but she only replied by wringing 
her hands, and bursting into tears. Her master quickly 
summoned her away, and on the morning after her ar- 
rival, she was compelled to leave the village, and ac- 
company them to Lower Sandusky. Within a few 
days, Johnston, in company with his friend Duchouquet, 
followed them to that place, partly upon business, partly 
with the hope of procuring her liberation. He found the 
town thronged with Indians of various tribes, and there, 
for the first time, he learned that his friend Skyles had 
effected his escape. Upon inquiring for the Clierokees, 
he learned that they were encamped with their prisoner 
within a quarter of a mile of the town, holding them- 
selves aloof from the rest, and evincing the most jeal- 
ous watchfulness over their prisoner. 

Johnston instantly applied to the traders of Sandusky 
for their good offices, and, as usual, the request was 
promptly complied with. They went out in a body to 
the Cherokee camp, accompanied by a white man named 
Whittaker, who had been taken from Virginia when a 
child, and had become completely naturalized among the 
Indians. This Whittaker was personally known to 
Miss Fleming, having often visited Pittsburgh, where her 
father kept a small tavern, much frequented by Indians 
and traders. As soon as she beheld him, therefore, she 



JOHNSTON, FLYNN, AND SKYLES. 239 

ran up to the spot where he stood, and bursting into 
tears, implored him to save her from the cruel fate which 
she had no doubt awaited her. He engaged very zeal- 
ously in her service, and finding that all the offers of 
the traders were rejected with determined obstinacy, he 
returned to Detroit, and solicited the intercession of an 
old chief known among the whites by the name of 
" Old King Crane," assuring him (a lie which we can 
scarcely blame) that the woman was his sister. 

King Crane listened with gravity to the appeal of 
Whittaker, acknowledged the propriety of interfering in 
the case of so near a relative, and very calmly walked 
out to the Cherokee camp, in order to try the efficacy 
of his own eloquence in behalf of the white squaw. He 
found her master, however, perfectly inexorable. The 
argument gradually waxed warm, until at length the 
Cherokees became enraged, and told the old man that 
it was a disgrace to a chief like him to put himself 
upon a level with " white people," and that they looked 
upon him as no better than "dirt." At this insupport- 
able insult, King Crane became exasperated in turn, 
and a very edifying scene ensued, in which each be- 
spattered the other with a profusion of abuse for sev- 
eral minutes, until the Old King recollected himself suf- 
ficiently to draw off for the present, and concert meas- 
ures for obtaining redress. He returned to the village 
in a towering passion, and announced his determination 
to collect his young men and rescue the white squaw 
by force ; and if the Cherokees dared to resist, he swore 
that he would take their scalps upon the spot. 

Whittaker applauded this doughty resolution, but 
warned him of the necessity of dispatch, as the Cher- 
okees, alarmed at the idea of losing their prisoner, 
might be tempted to put her to death without further 
delay. This advice was acknowledged to be of weight, 
and before daylight on the following morning, King 
Crane assembled his young men and advanced cau- 
tiously upon the Cherokee encampment. He found 
all but the miserable prisoner buried in sleep. She 
had been stripped naked, her body painted black, and 
in this condition had been bound to a stake, around 
22 



•240 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

which hickory poles had already been collected, and 
every other disposition made for burning her alive at 
daylight. She was moaning in a low tone as her de- 
liverers approached, and was so much exhausted as 
not to be aware of their approach until King Crane 
had actually cut the cords which bound her, with his 
knife. He then ordered his young men to assist her 
in putting on her clothes, which they obeyed with the 
most stoical indifference. 

As soon as her toilet had been completed, the King 
awakened her masters, and informed them that the 
squaw was his! that if they submitted quietly, it was 
well — if not, his young men and himself were ready 
for them. The Cherokees, as may readily be imagined, 
protested loudly against such unrighteous proceedings, 
but what could words avail against drawn tomahawks 
and superior numbers ? They finally expressed their 
willingness to resign the squaw, but hoped that King 
Crane would not be such a " beast" as to refuse them 
the ransom which he had offered them on the pre- 
ceding day. The king replied coolly, that he had the 
squaw now in his own hands, and would serve them 
only right if he refused to pay a single brooch ; but 
that he disdained to receive any thing at their hands 
without paying an equivalent, and would give them 
six hundred silver brooches. He then returned to 
Lower Sandusky, accompanied by the liberated pris- 
oner. She was instantly painted as a squaw by Whit- 
taker, and sent off under care of two trusty Indians 
to Pittsburgh, where she arrived in safety in the 
course of the following week. 

The Cherokees, in the evening, paraded the streets 
of Sandusky, armed and painted, as if upon a war 
party, and loudly complained of the violence which had 
been offered to them. They declared that they would 
not leave town until they had shed the blood of a 
white man, in revenge for the loss of their prisoner. 
Johnston and Duchouquet were compelled to remain 
closely at home for several days, until, to their great 
joy, the Cherokees finally left the village and were 
seen no more. 



JOHXSTOX, FLIXN, AND SKYLES. 241 

The remainder of Johnston's narrative is easily dis- 
patched. He soon after left Lower Sandusky, and em- 
barked in a boat laden with fur for Detroit. After 
remaining here a few days he took passage to Mon- 
treal, and for the first and last time had an opportunity 
of beholding the tremendous Falls of Niagara. * 
Having arrived at Montreal in safety, he remained a- 
few days in order to arrange his affairs, and as soon as 
possible continued his journey by way of Fort Stanwix 
to New York. There he had an interview with Pres- 
ident Washington, who, having been informed of his 
escape, sent for him, in order to make a number of 
inquiries as to the strength of the tribes through which 
he had passed, the force and condition of the British 
garrisons, and the degree of countenance which they 
had afforded to the hostile Indians. Having given all 
the information of which he was possessed, he was dis- 
missed with great kindness, and in the course of the 
following week he found himself once more in the 
bosom of his family. 

As* the reader may probably take some interest in the 
fate of the Indians whom we have mentioned, we are 
enabled to add something upon that subject. Chicka- 
tommo was killed at the decisive battle of the "Fallen 
Timber," where the united force of the North-western 
tribes was defeated by General Wayne. Messhawa 
fought at the same place, but escaped, and afterward 
became a devoted follower of the celebrated Tecumseh. 
He fought at Tippecanoe, Rai.-in, and finally at the 
River Thames, where it is supposed he was killed. 
Kin<r Crane lived to a great age, was present at St. 
Clair's defeat, and at the " Fallen Timber," but finally 
became reconciled to the Americans, and fought under 
Harrison at Thames. Whittaker, the white man, 
was in St. Clair's defeat, and afterward with the In- 
dians against Wayne. He has been dead many years. 
Tom Lewis fought against the Americans in all the 
north-western battles, until the final peace in 1796, and 



-This was an Iroquois word, and in their language signifies "The 
Thunder of the Waters." It is pronounced O-ni-aa-gaa-ra. 



242 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

then was one of the deputation who came on to Wash- 
ington City, where Johnston saw him in 1797. He 
afterward rose to the rank of chief among the' Shaw- 
nees, but having an incurable propensity to rum and 
thieving, he was degraded from his rank, and removed, 
with a band of his countrymen, to the country west of 
the Mississippi. 



WILLIAM HUBBELL, 243 



CHAPTER XI. 

IN the year 1791, while the Indians were yet trouble- 
some, especially on the banks of the Ohio, Captain 
William Hubbell, who had previously emigrated to 
Kentucky from the State of Vermont, and who, after 
having fixed his family in the neighborhood of Frank- 
fort, then a frontier settlement, had been compelled to 
go to the eastward on business, was a second time on his 
way to this country. On one of the tributary streams 
of the river Monongahela, he procured a flat-bottomed 
boat, and embarked, in company with Mr. Daniel Light 
and Mr. William Plascut and Ins family, consisting of 
a wife and eight children, destined for Limestone, Ken- 
tucky. On their progress down the river Ohio, and 
soon after passing Pittsburgh, they saw evident traces 
of Indians along the banks, and there is every reason to 
believe that a boat which they overtook, and w T hich 
through carelessness was suffered to run aground on an 
island, became a prey to these merciless savages. 

Though Captain Hubbell and his party stopped some 
time for it in a lower part of the river, it did not arrive, 
and it has never, to their knowledge, been heard of 
since. Before they reached the mouth of the Great Ke- 
nawha, they had, by several successive additions, in- 
creased their number to twenty, consisting of nine men, 
three women, and eight children. The men, besides 
those mentioned above, were, one John Stoner, an Irish- 
man and a Dutchman whose names are not recollected, 
Messrs. Ray and Tucker, and a Mr. Kilpatrick, whose 
two daughters also were of the party. Information re- 
ceived at Gallipolis confirmed the expectation which ap- 
pearances previously raised, of a serious conflict with a 
large body of Indians, and, as Captain Hubbell had 



244 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

been regularly appointed commander of the boat, every 
possible preparation was made for a formidable and suc- 
cessful resistance of the anticipated attack. 

The nine men were divided into three watches for the 
night, which were alternately to continue awake and be 
on the lookout for two hours at a time. The arms 
on board, which consisted principally of old muskets 
much out of order, were collected, loaded, and put in 
the best possible condition for service. At about sunset 
on that day (the twenty-third day of March, 1791), our 
party overtook a fleet of six boats descending the river 
in company, and intended to have continued with them ; 
but, as their passengers seemed to be more disposed to 
dancing than fighting, and as, soon after dark, notwith- 
standing the remonstrances of Captain Hubbell, they 
commenced fiddling and dancing instead of preparing 
their arms and taking the necessary rest preparatory to 
battle, it was wisely considered more hazardous to be in 
such company than to be alone. 

It was therefore determined to proceed rapidly for- 
ward by aid of the oars, and to leave those thoughtless 
fellow-travelers behind. One of the boats, however, be- 
longing to the fleet, commanded by a Captain Great- 
house, adopted the same plan, and for awhile kept up 
with Captain Hubbell ; but, all its crew at length fall- 
ing asleep, that boat also ceased to be propelled by the 
oars, and Captain Hubbell and his party proceeded 
steadily forward alone. Early in the night a canoe was 
dimly seen floating down the river, in which were prob- 
ably Indians reconnoitering, and other evident indica- 
tions were observed of the neighborhood and hostile in- 
tentions of a formidable party of savages. 

It was now agreed that should the attack, as was 
probable, be deferred till morning, every man should be 
up before the dawn, in order to make as great a show as 
possible of numbers and of strength ; and that, whenever 
the action should take place, the women and children 
should lie down on the cabin floor, and be protected as 
well as they could by the trunks and other baggage 
which might be placed around them. In this perilous 
situation they continued during the night, and the cap- 



WILLIAM HUBBELL. 245 

tain, who had not slept more than one hour since he left 
Pittsburgh, was too deeply impressed with the imminent 
danger which surrounded him to obtain any rest at that 
time. 

Just as daylight began to appear in the east, and be- 
fore the men were up and at their posts agreeably to ar- 
rangement, a voice at some distance below them in a 
plaintive tone repeatedly solicited them to come on 
shore, as there were some white persons who wished to 
obtain a passage in their boat. This the captain very 
naturally and correctly concluded to be an Indian arti- 
fice, and its only effect was to rouse the men and place 
every one on his guard. The voice of entreaty was soon 
changed into the language of indignation and insult, 
and the sound of distant paddles announced the ap- 
proach of the savage foe. At length three Indian ca- 
noes were seen through the mist of the morning rapidly 
advancing. With the utmost coolness the captain and 
his companions prepared to receive them. The chairs, 
tables, and other incumbrances were thrown into the 
river, in order to clear the deck for action. 

Every man took his position, and w r as ordered not to 
fire till the savages had approached so near that (to use 
the words of Captain Hubbell) "the flash from the 
guns might singe their eyebrows," and a special caution 
was given that the men should fire successively, so that 
there might be no interval. On the arrival of the ca- 
noes, they were found to contain about twenty-five or 
thirty Indians each. As soon as they had approached 
withm the reach of musket-shot, a general fire was given 
from one of them, which w T ounded Mr. Tucker through 
the hip so severely that his leg hung only by the flesh, 
and shot Mr. Light just below the ribs. The three ca- 
noes placed themselves at the bow, stern, and on the 
right side of the boat, so that they had an opportunity 
of raking in every direction. The fire now commenced 
from the boat, and had a powerful effect in checking the 
confidence and fury of the Indians. 

The captain, after firing his own gun, took up that 
of one of the wounded men, raised it to his shoulder, 
and was about to discharge it, when a ball came and 



246 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

took away the lock. He coolly turned round, seized a 
brand of fire from the kettle which served for a caboose, 
and, applying it to the pan, discharged the piece with 
effect. A very regular and constant fire was now kept 
up on both sides. The captain was just in the act of 
raising his gun a third time, when a ball passed through 
his right arm, and for a moment disabled him. Scarcely 
had he recovered from the shock and re acquired the 
use of his hand, which had been suddenly drawn up by 
the wound, when he observed the Indians in one of the 
canoes just about to board the boat in its bow, where 
the horses were placed belonging to the party. So near 
had they approached, that some of them had actually 
seized with their hands the side of the boat. 

Severely wounded as he was, he caught up a pair of 
horsemen's pistols, and rushed forward to repel the at- 
tempt at boarding. On his approach the Indians fell 
back, and he discharged a pistol with effect at the fore- 
most man. After firing the second pistol he found him- 
self without arms, and was compelled to retreat ; but, 
stepping back upon a pile of small wood which had been 
prepared for burning in the kettle, the thought struck 
him that it might be made use of in repelling the foe, 
and he continued for some time to strike them with it 
so forcibly and actively, that they were unable to enter 
the boat ; and at length he wounded one of them so se- 
verely, that with a yell they suddenly gave way. All 
the canoes instantly discontinued the contest, and di- 
rected their course to Captain Greathouse's boat, which 
was then in sight. Here a striking contrast was exhib- 
ited to the firmness and intrepidity which had been dis- 
played. 

Instead of resisting the attack, the people on board of 
this boat retired to the cabin in dismay. The Indians 
entered it without opposition and rowed it to the shore, 
where they instantly killed the captain and a lad of 
about fourteen years of age. The women they placed 
in the center of their canoes, and, manning them with 
fresh hands, again pursued Captain Hubbell and party. 
A melancholy alternative now presented itself to these 
brave but almost desponding inen — either to fall a prey 



WILLIAM HUBBELL. 247 

to the savages themselves, or to run the risk of shooting 
the women, who had been placed in the canoes in the 
hope of deriving protection from their presence. But 
1 'self-preservation is the first law of nature," and the 
captain very justly remarked there would not be much 
humanity in preserving their lives at such a sacrifice, 
merely that they might become victims of savage cruelty 
at some subsequent period. 

There were now but four men left on board of Cap- 
tain Hubbell's boat capable of defending it, and the cap- 
tain himself was severely wounded in two places. The 
second attack, however, was resisted with almost incred- 
ible firmness and vigor. Whenever the Indians would 
rise to fire, their opponents would commonly give them 
the first shot, which in almost every instance would 
prove fatal. Notwithstanding the disparity of numbers, 
and the exhausted condition of the defenders of the boat, 
the Indians at length appeared to despair of success, 
and the canoes successively retired to the shore. Just 
as the. last one was departing, Captain Hubbell called 
to the Indian who was standing in the stern, and, on his 
turning round, discharged his piece at him. When the 
smoke, which for a moment obstructed the vision, was 
dissipated, he was seen lying on his back, and appeared 
to he severely, perhaps mortally, wounded. 

Unfortunately, the boat now drifted near to the shore 
where the Indians were collected, and a large concourse, 
probably between four and five hundred, were seen rush- 
ing down on the bank. Ray and Plascut, the only men 
remaining unhurt, were placed at the oars, and, as the 
boat was not more than twenty yards from shore, it was 
deemed prudent for all to lie down in as safe a position 
as possible, and attempt to push forward with the ut- 
most practicable rapidity. While they continued in this 
situation, nine balls were shot into one oar, and ten into 
the other, without wounding the rowers, who were hid- 
den from view and protected by the side of the boat and 
the blankets in its stern. During this dreadful expo- 
sure to*the fire of the savages, which continued about 
twenty minutes, Mr. Kilpatrick observed a particular 
Indian, whom he thought a favorable mark for his rifle, 
23 



248 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

and, notwithstanding the solemn warning of Captain 
Hubbell, rose to shoot him. He immediately received 
a ball in his mouth, which passed out at the back part 
of his head, and was almost at the same moment shot 
through the heart. He fell among the horses that about 
the same time were killed, and presented to his afflicted 
daughters and fellow-travelers, who were witnesses of 
the awful occurrence, a spectacle of horror which we 
need not further attempt to describe. 

The boat was now providentially and suddenly carried 
out into the middle of the stream, and taken by the cur- 
rent beyond the reach of the enemy's balls. Our little 
band, reduced as they were in numbers, wounded, af- 
flicted, and almost exhausted by fatigue, were still un- 
subdued in spirit, and being assembled in all their 
strength — men, women, and children — with an appear- 
ance of triumph gave three hearty cheers, calling to the 
Indians to come on again if they were fond of the sport. 

Thus ended this awful conflict, in which, out of 
nine men, two only escaped unhurt. Tucker and 
Kilpatrick were killed on the spot, Stoner was mortally 
wounded and died on his arrival at Limestone, and 
all the rest, excepting Ray and Plascut, were severely 
wounded. The women and children were all unin- 
jured, excepting a little son of Mr. Plascut, who, after 
the battle was over, came to the captain and with great 
coolness requested him to take a ball out of his head. 
On examination, it appeared that a bullet which had 
passed through the side of the boat, had penetrated 
the forehead of this little hero, and remained under 
the skin. The captain took it out, and the youth, 
observing, " That is not all" raised his arm, and exhib- 
ited a piece of bone at the point of his elbow, which 
had been shot off and hung only by the skin. His 
mother exclaimed, "Why did you not tell me of this?" 
" Because/' he coolly replied, " the captain directed us 
to be silent during the action, and I thought you would 
be likely to make a noise if I told you." 

The boat made the best of its way down the river, 
and the object was ito reach Limestone that night. 
The captain's arm had bled profusely, and he was 



WILLIAM HTJBBELL. 249 

compelled to close the sleeve of his coat in order to 
retain the blood and stop its effusion. In this situation, 
tormented by excruciating pain and faint through loss 
of blood, he was under the necessity of steering the 
boat wiih his left arm, till about ten o'clock that night, 
when he was relieved by Mr. William Brooks, who 
resided on the bank of the river, and who was induced 
by the calls of the suffering party to come out to their 
assistance. By his aid and that of some other persons 
who were in the same manner brought to their relief, 
they were enabled to reach Limestone about twelve 
o'clock that night. 

Immediately on the arrival of Mr. Brooks, Captain 
Hubbell, relieved from labor and responsibility, sunk 
under the weight of pain and fatigue, and became for 
a while totally insensible. When the boat reached 
Limestone, he found himself unable to walk, and was 
obliged to be carried up to the tavern. Here he had 
his wound dressed and continued several days, until he 
acquired sufficient strength to proceed homeward. 

On the arrival of our party at Limestone, they found 
a considerable force of armed men, about to march 
against the same Indians from whose attacks they had 
so severely suffered. They now learned that, the 
Sunday preceding, the same party of savages had cut 
off a detachment of men ascending the Ohio from Fort 
Washington, at the mouth of Licking River, and had 
killed with their tomahawks, without firing a gun, 
twenty-one out of twenty-two men, of which the de- 
tachment consisted. 

Crowds of people, as might be expected, came to 
witness the boat which had been the scene of so much 
heroism, and such horrid carnage, and to visit the 
resolute little band by whom it had been so gallantly 
and perseveringly defended. On examination, it was 
found that the sides of the boat were literally filled 
with bullets and with bullet holes. There was scarcely 
a space of two feet square in the part above water, which 
had not either a ball remaining in it or a hole through 
which a ball had passed. Some persons, who had the 
curiosity to count the number of holes in the blankets 



250 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

which were hung up as curtains in the stern of the 
boat, affirmed that in the space of five feet square 
there were one hundred and twenty-two. Four horses 
out of five were killed, and the escape of the fifth 
amidst such a shower of balls appears almost miracu- 
lous. 

The day after the arrival of Captain Hubbell and 
his companions, the five remaining boats, which they 
had passed on the night preceding the battle, reached 
Limestone. Those on board remarked, that during 
the action they distinctly saw the flashes, but could 
not hear the reports of the guns. The Indians, it 
appears, had met with too formidable a resistance from 
a single boat to attack a fleet, and suffered them to 
pass unmolested; and since that time, it is be.ieved 
that no boat has been assailed by Indians on the Ohio. 

The force which marched out to disperse this for- 
midable body of savages, discovered several Indians 
dead on the shore near the scene of action. They also 
found the bodies of Captain Greathouse and several 
others, men, women, and children, who had been on 
board of his boat. Most of them appeared to have been 
whipped to death, as they were found stripped, tied to 
trees, and marked with the appearance of lashes, and 
large rods which seemed to have been worn with use 
were observed lying near them. 



NORTH-WESTERN CAMPAIGN. 251 



CHAPTER XII. 

HERETOFORE our narrative has chiefly been con- 
fined to the adventures of individuals, or, at most, 
to the irregular forays of independent volunteers. We 
come now, however, to events upon a large scale, and 
to a detail of national, not individual efforts. Before 
entering, however, upon such a brief notice as our 
limits will permit, of the events of the North-western 
campaign, it will be necessary to premise a few obser- 
vations upon the causes of the long-continued warfare 
to which the Western States were exposed, while those 
upon .the borders of the Atlantic enjoyed all the 
blessings of peace. 

At the general pacification of 1783, there were 
several stipulations upon both sides, which were not 
complied with. Great Britain had agreed, as spetdily 
as possible, to evacuate all the North -western posts 
which lay within the boundaries of the ITnitid States; 
while, on the other hand, Congress had stipulated that 
no legal impediments should be thrown in the way, in 
order to prevent the collection of debts due to British 
merchants before the declaration of war. Large im- 
portations had been made by American merchants, 
upon credit, in 1773 and 1774; and as all civil inter- 
course between the two countries had ceased until the 
return of peace, the British creditors were unable to 
collect their debts. Upon the final ratification of the 
treaty, they naturally became desirous of recovering 
their property, while their debtors as naturally were 
desirous of avoiding payment. 

Congress had stipulated that no legal barrier should 
be thrown in the way ; but, as is well known, Congress, 
under the old confederation, was much more prolific in 



252 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

"Resolutions," or rather "Recommendations," than 
acts. The States might or might not comply with 
them, as suited their convenience. Accordingly, when 
Congress recommended the payment of all debts to the 
State Legislatures, the Legislatures determined that it 
was inexpedient to comply. The British creditor com- 
plained to his Government; the Government remon- 
strated with Congress upon so flagrant a breach of one 
of the articles of pacification ; Congress appealed to the 
Legislatures ; the Legislatures were deaf and obstinate, 
and there the matter rested. When the question was 
agitated as to the evacuation of the posts, the British, 
in turn, became refractory, and determined to hold them 
until the acts of the State Legislatures, preventing the 
legal collection of debts, were repealed. Many remon- 
strances were exchanged, but all to no purpose. 

In the meantime, the Indians were supplied, as usual, 
by the British agents, and if not openly encouraged, 
were undoubtedly secretly countenanced, in their re- 
peated depredations upon the frontier inhabitants. 
These, at length* became so serious, as to demand the 
notice of Government. Accordingly, in the autumn of 
1790, General Harmer was detached at the head of 
three hundred regular troops, and more than one thou- 
sand militia, with orders to march upon their towns bor- 
dering upon the lakes, and inflict upon them such sig- 
nal chastisement as should deter them from future dep- 
redations. . On the twentieth of September, the various 
troops designed for the expedition rendezvoused at 
Fort Washington, now Cincinnati, and on the following 
day commenced their march to the Miami villages. 
The country was rough, swampy, and in many places 
almost impassable, so that seventeen days were con- 
sumed before the main body could come within striking 
distance of the enemy. In the meantime, the great 
scarcity of provisions rendered it necessary for the gen- 
eral to sweep the forest with numerous small detach- 
ments, and as the woods swarmed with roving bands of 
Indians, most of these parties were cut off. 

At length, the main body, considerably reduced by 
this petty warfare, came within a few miles of their 



NORTH-WESTERN CAMPAIGN 253 

towns. Here the general ordered Captain Armstrong, 
at the head of thirty regulars, and Colonel Hardin, of 
Kentucky, with one hundred and fifty militia, to advance 
and reconnoiter. In the execution of this order they 
suddenly found themselves in the presence of a superior 
number of Indians, who suddenly arose from the bushes 
and opened a heavy fire upon them. The militia in- 
stantly gave way; while the regulars, accustomed to 
more orderly movements, attempted a regular retreat. 
The enemy rushed upon them, tomahawk in hand, and 
completely surrounded them. The regulars attempted 
to open a passage with the bayonet, but in vain. They 
were all destroyed, with the exception of their captain 
and one lieutenant. 

Captain Armstrong was remarkably stout and active, 
and succeeded in breaking through the enemy's line, 
although not without receiving several severe wounds. 
Finding himself hard pressed, he plunged into a deep 
and miry swamp, where he lay concealed during the 
whole night, within two hundred yards of the Indian 
camp, and witnessed the dances and joyous festivity 
with which they celebrated their victory. The lieuten- 
ant (Hartshorn) escaped by accidentally stumbling over 
a log and falling into a pit, where he lay concealed by the 
rank grass which grew around him. The loss of the 
militia was very trifling. Notwithstanding this severe 
check, Harmer advanced with the main body upon their 
villages, which he found deserted and in flames, the 
Indians having fired them with their own hands. Here 
he found several hundred acres of corn, which was com- 
pletely destroyed. He then advanced upon the adjoin- 
ing villages, which he found deserted and burned as the 
first had been. Having destroyed all the corn which he 
found, the army commenced its retreat from the Indian 
country, supposing the enemy sufficiently intimidated. 

After marching about ten miles on the homeward 
route, General Harmer received information which in- 
duced him to suppose that a body of Indians had re- 
turned and taken possession of the village which he had 
just left. He detached, therefore, eighty regular troops 
under the orders of Major Wyllys, and nearly the whole 



254 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

of his militia, under Colonel Hardin, with orders to re- 
turn to the village and destroy such of the enemy as 
presented themselves. The detachment accordingly 
countermarched and proceeded, with all possible dis- 
patch, to the appointed spot, fearful only that the enemy 
might hear of their movement and escape before they 
could come up. The militia, in loose order, took the 
advance; the regulars, moving in a hollow square, 
brought up the rear. Upon the plain in front of the 
town, a number of Indians were seen, between whom 
and the militia a sharp action commenced. After a 
few rounds, with considerable effect upon both sides, the 
savages fled in disorder, and were eagerly and impetu- 
ously pursued by the militia, who, in the ardor of the 
chase, were drawn into the woods to a considerable dis- 
tance from the regulars. 

Suddenly, from the opposite quarter several hundred 
Indians appeared, rushing with loud yells upon the un- 
supported regulars. Major Wyllys, who was a brave 
and experienced officer, formed his men in a square, 
and endeavored to gain a more favorable spot of ground, 
but was prevented by the desperate impetuosity with 
which the enemy assailed him. Unchecked by the 
murderous fire which was poured upon them from the 
diff -rent sides of the square, they rushed in masses up 
to the points of the bayonets, hurled their tomahawks 
with fatal accuracy, and putting aside the bayonets 
with their hands, or clogging them with their bodies, 
they were quickly mingled with the troops, and handled 
their long knives with destructive effect. In two min- 
utes the bloody struggle was over. Major Wyllys fell, 
together with seventy-three privates and one lieutenant. 
One captain, one ensign, and seven privates — three of 
whom were wounded — were the sole survivors of this 
short but desperate encounter. 

The Indian lo-s was nearly equal, as they sustained 
several heavy fires which the closeness of their masses 
rendered very destructive, and as they rushed upon the 
bayonets of the troops with the most astonishing disre- 
gard to their own safety. Their object was to over- 
whelm the regulars before the militia could return to 



NORTH-WESTERN CAMPAIGN. 255 

their support, and it was as boldly executed as it had been 
finely conceived. In a short time the militia returned 
from the pursuit of the flying party, which had decoyed 
them to a distance ; but it was now too late to retrieve 
the fortune of the day. After some sharp skirmishing, 
they effected their retreat to the main body, with the 
loss of one hundred and eight killed and twenty-eight 
wounded. This dreadful slaughter so reduced the 
strength and spirits of Harmer's army that he was happy 
in being permitted to retreat unmolested, having totally 
failed in accomplishing the objects of the expedition, 
and by obstinately persevering in the ruinous plan of 
acting in detachments, having thrown away the lives of 
more than half of his regular force. This abortive ex- 
pedition served only to encourage the enemy and to give 
additional rancor to their incursions. 

Before detailing the important events which followed, 
however, we shall pause for a few moments to dwell 
upon the singular adventure of an individual who at- 
tended Harmer in his expedition. Jackson Johonnet 
was horn in Connecticut in May, 1774. His father was 
a farmer, and managed, upon a very small and by no 
means fertile farm, to bring up a large family with credit 
and decency. Jackson, the eldest son, at the age of 
sixteen, became desirous of engaging in some business 
upon his own account; and, as his father could well 
spare his labor upon the farm, he took leave of his 
family in the spring of 1790, and embarked on board 
of a coasting schooner for Boston. Having arrived in 
this large city, and for the first time in his life finding 
himself without friends, money, or employment of any 
kind, he began to entertain some uncomfortable appre- 
hensions of want. After wandering through the streets 
for several days with a very disconsolate air, he was at 
length accosted by a dexterous recruiting officer, who, 
seeing him to be a perfect greenhorn, determined to en- 
list him if he could. 

Accosting him with great frankness, he soon became 
acquainted with his real condition, and after some pre- 
liminary observations upon the gayety, recklessness, and 
happiness of a soldier's life, he proposed that he should 



256 WESTERN ADVENTURE, 

enlist in his company and march out to the West, assur- 
ing him that if he was active and diligent he would 
make an immense fortune in one year. Jackson at first 
shrunk from the idea of " enlisting; " but his imagina- 
tion became gradually heated at the glowing description 
of the fertility of the Western country, and the facility 
with which land could be acquired to any extent by a 
successful soldier. He finally promised him a sergeant's 
commission on the spot, and held out to him the pros- 
pect of a lieutenancy in case of good behavior. Jack- 
son at length yielded to the eloquence of this modern 
Kite, and in a few days found him>elf on the road to 
Pittsburgh, and highly charmed with his martial ap- 
pearance when arrayed in the uniform of his corps. 

Embarking on board of a flat-boat at Pittsburgh, he 
descended the Ohio as far as Fort Washington (Cincin- 
nati), where he found his regiment preparing to accom- 
pany Harmer. A few days after his arrival, the march 
commenced. Here' he, for the first time, awoke from 
the pleasant dream in which he had indulged. He had 
thought that war was a succession of battles and tri- 
umphs, leading naturally to wealth and glory. Splen- 
did uniforms, gay music, waving plumes, and showy 
parades had floated in splendid confusion before his 
fancy, until the march commenced. He now found that 
war was made up of dreadful fatigue, constant expos- 
ure to all weather, hard words and harder blows from 
his superiors, and the whole crowned by the constant 
gnawings of hunger without the means of satisfying it. 

On the tenth day of their march (having been pro- 
moted to the rank of sergeant), he was detached upon 
an exploring expedition, at the head of ten regular sol- 
diers. Being all equally ignorant of Indian warfare, 
they were quickly decoyed into an ambuscade and made 
prisoners by a party of Kickapoo Indians. Having 
been bound and secured in the usual manner, they were 
driven before their captors like a herd of bullocks, 
and, with scarcely a morsel of food, were forced to make 
the most exhaustive marches in the direction of the 
Kickapoo village. On the second day, George Aikins, 
one of his companions, a native of Ireland, was unable 



NORTH-WESTERN CAMPAIGN. 257 

to endure his sufferings any longer, and sunk under his 
pack in the middle of the path. They instantly scalped 
hi in as he lay, and, stripping him naked, pricked him 
with their knives in the most sensitive parts of the body 
until they had aroused him to a consciousness of his sit- 
uation, when they tortured him to death in the usual 
manner. 

The march then recommenced, and the wretched 
prisoners, faint and famished as they were, were so 
shocked at the fate of their companion, that they bore 
up for eight days under all their sufferings. On the 
ninth, however, they reached a t-mall village, where 
crowds of both sexes came out to meet them, with 
shrieks and yells which filled them with terror. 
Here they were compelled, as usual, to run the 
gauntlet, and as they were much worn down by hun- 
ger and fatigue, four of the party, viz : Durgee, For- 
sythe, Delo'y, and Btnton, all of New England, were 
unable to reach the council-house, but fainted in the 
midst of the course. The boys and squaws instantly 
fell upon them, and put them to death by torture. 

Here they remained in close confinement, and upon 
very scanty diet, for several days, in the course of 
which the news of Harmer's de eat arrived. Pilts of 
scalps, together with canteens, sashes, military hats, 
etc., were brought into the village, and several white 
women and children were taken through the town on 
their way to the villages farther west. At the same 
time, four more of his companions were led off to the 
western villages, and never heard of afterward. Him- 
self and a corporal, named Sackville, were now the 
only survivors. They remained in close confinement 
two weeks longer. Their rations were barely sufficient 
to sustain life, and upon the receipt of any unpleasant 
intelligence, they were taken out, whipped severely, 
and compelled to run the gauntlet. 

At length, on the fourteenth night of their confine- 
ment, they determined to make an effort to escape. 
Sackville had concealed a sharp penknife in a secret 
pocket, which the Indians had been unable to discover. 
They were guarded by four warriors and one old hag 



258 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

of seventy, whose temper was as crooked as her person. 
The prisoners having been securely bound, the warriors 
lay down about midnight to sleep, ordering the old 
squaw to sit up during the rest of the night. Their 
guns stood in the corner of the hut, and their toma- 
hawks, as usual, were attached to their sides. Their 
hopes of escape were founded upon the probability of 
eluding the vigilance of the hag, cutting their cords, 
and either avoiding or destroying their guard. The 
snoring of the warriors quickly announced them asleep, 
and the old squaw hung in a drowsy attitude over the 
fire. S ickville cautiously cut his own cords, and after 
a few minutes delay, succeeded in performing the same 
offi ;e for Jackson. 

But their work was scarcely begun yet. It was ab- 
solutely necessary that the old squaw should fall asleep, 
or be silenced in some other way, before they could either 
leave the hut, or attack the sleeping warriors. They 
waited impatiently for half an hour, but perceiving 
that, although occasionally dozing, she would rouse 
herself at short intervals, and regard them suspiciously, 
they exchanged looks of intelligence (being afraid even 
to whisper), and prepared for the decisive effort. 
Jackson suddenly sprang up as silently as possible, and 
grasping the old woman by the throat, drew her head 
back with violence, when Sackville, who had watched 
his movements attentively, instantly cut her throat 
from ear to ear. A short gurgling moan was the only 
sound which escaped her, as the violence with which 
Jackson grasped her throat effectually prevented her 
speaking. 

The sleepers were not awakened, although they ap- 
peared somewhat disturbed at the noise; and the two 
adventurers, seizing each a rifle, struck at the same 
moment with such fury as to disable two of their 
enemies. The other two instantly sprang to their feet, 
but before they could draw their tomahawks, or give 
the alarm, they were prostrated by the blows of the 
white men, who attacked them at the moment that 
they had gained their feet. Their enemies, although 
stunned, were not yet dead. They drew their toma- 



NORTH-WESTERN CAMPAIGN. 259 

hawks from their sides, therefore, and striking each 
Indian repeatedly upon the head, completed the work 
by piercing the heart of each with his own scalping 
knife. Selecting two rifles from the corner, together 
with their usual appendages, and taking such provisions 
as the hut afforded, they left the village as rapidly 
as possible, and fervently invoking the protection of 
heaven, committed themselves to the wilderness. 

Neither of them were good woodsmen, nor were 
either of them expert hunters. They attempted a 
south -ea.- tern course, however, as nearly as they could 
a>certain it, but were much embaras.-ed by the fre- 
quent recurrence of impassable bogs, which compelled 
them to change their course, and greatly retarded 
their progress. Knowing that the pursuit would be 
keen and persevering, they resorted to every method 
of baffling their enemies. They waded down many 
streams, and occasionally surmounted rocky precipices, 
which, under other circumstances, nothing could have 
induced them to attempt. Their sufferings from hun- 
ger were excessive, as they were so indifferently skilled 
in hunting as to be unable to kill a sufficient quantity 
of game, although the woods abounded with dter, 
beaver, and buffalo. 

On the fourth day, about ten o'clock, A. M., they 
came to a fine spring, where they halted and deter- 
mined to prepare their breakfast. Before kindling a 
fire, however, Sackville, either upon some vague 
suspicion of the proximity of an enemy, or from some 
other cause, thought proper to ascend an adjoining 
hillock and reconnoiter the ground around the spring. 
No measure was ever more providential. Jackson 
presently beheld him returning cautiously and silently 
to the spring, and being satisfied from his manner that 
danger was at hand, he held his rifle in readiness for 
action at a moment's warning. Sackville presently 
rejoined him with a countenance in which anxiety and 
resolution were strikingly blended. Jackson eagerly 
inquired the cause of his alarm. His companion, in a 
low voice, replied that they were within one hundred 
yards of four Indian warriors, who were reposing upon 



260 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

the bank of the little rivulet on the other side of the 
hillock; that they were about kindling a fire in order 
to prepare their breakfast, and that two white men lay 
bound hand and foot within twenty feet of them. 

He added that they were evidently prisoners, exposed 
to the same dreadful fate which they had just escaped; 
and concluded by declaring that, if Jackson would 
stand by him faithfully, he was determined to rescue 
them or perish in the attempt. Jackson gave him his 
hand and expressed his readiness to accompany him. 
Sackville then looked carefully to the priming of his 
gun, loosened his knife in the sheath, and desired Jack- 
son to follow him, without making the slightest noise. 

They, accordingly, moved in a stooping posture up a 
small and bushy ravine, which conducted them to the 
top of the gentle hill. When near the summit, they 
threw themselves flat upon the ground, and crawled 
into a thick cluster of whortleberry bushes, from which 
they had a fair view of the enemy. The Indians had 
not changed their position, but one of the white men 
was sitting up, and displayed the countenance of a 
young man, apparently about twenty-five, pale, haggard, 
and exhausted. Two Indians, with uplifted toma- 
hawks, sat within three feet of him. One lay at full 
length upon the ground, while the remaining one was 
in the act of lighting a fire. 

Sackville cocked his gun, and in a low voice directed 
Jackson to fire at one of the guards, who, from the 
quantity of beads and silver about his head, appeared 
to be a chief, while he selected the other guard for a 
mark. Each presented at the same moment, took a 
steady aim, and fired. Both Indians fell — the chief 
shot dead, the other mortally wounded. The other 
two Indians squatted in the grass like terrified par- 
tridges when the hawk hovers over them, and lay still 
and motionless. Sackville and Jackson reloaded their 
guns as rapidly as possible, and shifted their position 
a few paces in order to obtain a better view of the 
enemy. In the meantime, the two Indians cautiously 
elevated their heads above the grass, and glanced 
rapidly around in order to observe from what quarter 



NORTH-WESTERN CAMPAIGN. 261 

the fatal shots were discharged. The thin wreaths of 
smoke which curled above the bushes where our ad- 
venturers lay, betrayed their hiding-place to the enemy. 
Before they could take advantage of it, however, they 
were ready to fire again, and this second volley proved 
fatal to one of their enemies, who lay without motion, 
but the other was only slightly wounded, and endeav- 
ored to reach the bushes upon the opposite side of 
the brook. 

Sackville and Jackson now sprang to their feet, -and 
rushed upon him, but the desperate savage shot Sack- 
ville through the heart, as he advanced, and flourished 
his tomahawk so menacingly at Jackson, that he was 
compelled to pause and reload his gun. The savage 
seized this opportunity to grasp the two rifles belonging 
to the Indians who had been first killed, and Jackson, 
in consequence, was compelled to retreat to the friendly 
shelter of the bushes, which he had too hastily aban- 
doned. At this instant, the two prisoners, having burst 
the cords which confined them, sprang to their feet and 
ran toward the bushes for protection. Before they 
could reach them, however, the Indian shot one dead, 
and fired his last gun at the other, but without effect. 
Jackson having loaded again, fired upon their desperate 
enemy and wounded him in the neck, from which he 
could see the blood spouting in a stream. Nothing 
daunted, the Indian rapidly reloaded his gun and again 
fired without effect. 

The prisoner who had escaped now seized Sackville's 
gun, and he and Johonnet, having reloaded, once more 
left the bushes and advanced upon their wounded 
enemy. The savage, although much exhausted from 
loss of blood, sat up at their approach, and, flourishing 
a tomahawk in each hand, seemed at least determined 
to die game. Johonnet was anxious to take him alive, 
but w ? as prevented by his companion, who, leveling his 
gun as he advanced, shot his adversary through the 
head, and thus put an end to the conflict. It was a 
melancholy victory to the survivors. Johonnet had lost 
his gallant comrade, and the rescued white man had to 
lament the death of his fellow captive. The last Indian 



262 WESTERN ADVENTURE, 

had certainly inflicted a heavy penalty upon his ene- 
mies, and died amply revenged. The rescued prisoner 
proved to be George Sexton, of Newport, Rhode Island, 
a private in Harmer's army. 

Fortuuately for Johonnet, his new comrade was an 
excellent woodsman, and very readily informed his de- 
liverer of their present situation, and of the proper 
course to steer. He said, that in company with three 
others, he had been taken by a party of Wabash Indians, 
in the neighborhood of Fort Jefferson ; that two of his 
comrades, having sunk under their sufferings, had been 
tomahawked and scalped upon the spot; that himself 
and his dead companion had been in hourly expectation 
of a similar fate; and concluded with the warmest ex- 
pressions of gratitude for the gallantry with which he 
had been rescued, So lively, indeed, was his sense of 
obligation, that he would not permit Jackson to carry 
his own baggage, nor would he suffer him to watch more 
than three hours in the twenty-four. On the following 
day they fortunately fell in with a small detachment 
from Fort Jefferson, by which they were safely con- 
ducted to the fort, Here Jackson remained until sum- 
moned to attend St. Clair in his disastrous expedition 
against the same Miami villages, where he had lately 
suffered so much. 



ARTHUR ST. CLAIR. 263 



CHAPTER XIII. 

WE now come to one of the heaviest disasters which 
occurs in the annals of Indian warfare. The fail- 
ure of Harmer made a deep impression upon the Amer- 
ican nation, and was followed by a loud demand lor a 
greater force, under the command of a more experienced 
general. General Arthur St. Clair was, at that 
time, Governor of the North-western Territory, and had 
a claim to the command of such forces as should be 
employed within his own limits. This gentleman had 
uniformly ranked high as an officer of courage and 
patriotL-m, but had been more uniformly unfortunate 
than any other officer in the American service. He had 
commanded at Ticonderoga, in the spring of 1777, and 
had conducted one of the most disa>trous retreats which 
occurred during the Revolutionary War. Notwithstand- 
ing his repeated misfortunes, he still commanded the 
respect of his brother officers, and the undiminished 
confidence of Washington. He was now selected as the 
person most capable of restoring the American affairs 
in the North-west, and was placed at the head of a 
regular force, amounting to near fifteen hundred men, 
well furnished with artillery, and was empowered to 
call out such reinforcements of militia as might be 
necessary. Cincinnati, as usual, was the place of 
rendezvous. 

In October, 1791, an army was assembled at that 
place, greatly superior, in numbers, officers, and equip- 
ments, to any which had yet appeared in the west. The 
regular force was composed of three complete regiments 
of infantry, two companies of artillery, and one of 
cavalry. The militia, who joined him at Fort Washing- 
ton, amounted to upwards of six hundred men, most of 
24 



264 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

whom had long been accustomed to Indian warfare. The 
general commenced his march, from Cincinnati, on the 

cf October, and, following the route of Harmer, 

arrived at Fort Jefferson without material loss, although 
not without having sustained much inconvenience from 
scarcity of provisions. The Kentucky Rangers, amount- 
ing to upwards of two hundred men, had encountered 
several small parties of Indians, but no serious affair 
had as yet taken place. Shortly after leaving Fort 
Jefferson, one cf the militia regiments, with their usual 
disregard to discipline, determined that it was inexpe- 
dient to proceed farther, and, detaching themselves 
from the main body, returned rapidly to the fort, on 
their way home. This ill-timed mutiny not only dis- 
couraged the remainder, but compelled the general to 
detach the first regiment in pursuit of them, if not to 
bring them back, at least to prevent them from injur- 
ing the stores collected at the fort for the use of the 
army. With the remainder of the troops, amounting 
in all to about twelve hundred men, he continued his 
inareh to the great Miami villages. 

On the evening of the third of November he en- 
camped upon a very commanding piece of ground, up- 
on the bank of one of the tributaries of the Wabash, 
where he determined to throw up some slight works, 
for the purpose of protecting their knapsacks and bag- 
gage, having to move upon the Miami villages, sup- 
posed to be within twelve miles, as soon as the first 
regiment should rejoin them. The remainder of the 
evening was employe! in concerting the plan of the 
proposed work with Major Ferguson of the engineers; 
and when the sentries were posted at night, every thing 
was as quiet as could have been desired. The troops 
were encamped in two lines, with an interval of seventy 
yards between them, which was all that the nature of 
the ground would permit. The battalions of Majors 
Butler, Clarke, and Patterson composed the front line, 
the whole under the orders of Major-General Butler, 
an officer of high and merited reputation. The front 
of the line was covered by a creek, its right flank by 
the river, and its left by a strong corps of infantry. 



ARTHUR ST. CLAIR. 265 

The second line was composed of the battalions of 
Majors Gaither and Bedinger, and the second regiment 
under the command of Lieutenant-Colonel Darke. 
This line, like the other, was secured upon one flank by 
the river, and upon the other by the cavalry and 
pickets.* The night passed away without alarm. The 
sentinels were vigilant,"}" and the officers upon the alert. 

A few hours before day, St. Clair caused the reveille 
to be beaten, and the troops to be paraded under arms, 
under the expectation that an attack would probably be 
made. In this situation they continued until daylight, 
when they were dismissed to their tents. Some were 
endeavoring to snatch a few minutes' sleep, others were 
preparing for the expected march, when suddenly the 
report of a rifle was heard from the militia, a few 
hundred yards in front, which was quickly followed by 
a sharp, irregular volley in the same direction. The 
drums instantly beat to arms, the officers flew in every 
direction, and in two minutes the troops were formed in 
order of battle. Presently the militia rushed into camp, 
in the utmost disorder, closely pursued by swarms of 
Indians, who, in many places, were mingled with them, 
and were cutting them down with their tomahawks. 

Major Butler's battalion received the first shock, and 
was thrown into disorder by the tumultuous flight of 
the militia, who in their eagerness to escape, bore down 
every thing before them. Here Major-General Butler 
had stationed himself, and here St. Clair directed his 
attention in order to remedy the confusion which began 
to spread rapidly through the whole line. The Indians 
pressed forward with great audacity, and many of them 



-The militia, amounting to about two hundred and fifty men, 
were thrown across the creek, about three hundred yards in front 
of the first line, and a small detachment of regulars, under the 
orders of Captain Slough, were pushed still farther in advance, 
in order to prevent the possibility of surprise. 

t Captain Slough was alarmed, in the course of the night, by 
the appearance of an unusual number of the enemy in his front 
and upon both flanks. A short time before day, they had col- 
lected in such numbers as seriously to alarm him, and induced 
him to fall back upon the militia. He instantly informed Gen- 
eral Butler of the circumstance, but that officer, unfortunately, 
slighted the intelligence, and did not deem it of sufficient im- 
portance to inform the commander-in-chief. 



266 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

were mingled with the troops before their progress could 
be checked. Major-General Butler was wounded at 
the first fire, and before his wound could be dressed, 
an Indian, who had penetrated the ranks of the regi- 
ment, ran up to the spot where he lay and tomahawked 
him bafore his attendants could interpose. The des- 
perate savage was instantly killed. By great exertions, 
Bitler's battalion was restored to order, and the heavy 
and sustained fire of the first line compelled the enemy 
to pause and shelter themselves. 

This interval, however, endured but for a moment. 
An invisible but tremendous fire quickly opened upon 
the whole front of the encampment, which rapidly ex- 
tended to the rear, and encompassed the troops on both 
sidas. St. Clair, who at that time was worn down by a 
fever, an 1 unable to mount his horse, nevertheless, as 
is universa'ly admitted, exerted himself with a courage 
and pre>enc3 of mind worthy of a better fate. He in- 
stantly directed his litter to the right of the rear line, 
where the great weight of fire fell, and where the slaugh- 
ter, particularly of the officers, was terrible. Here 
Darke commanded, an officer who had been trained to 
hard service during the Revolutionary War, and who 
was now gallantly exerting himself to check the conster- 
nation which was evidently beginning to prevail. St. 
Clair ordered him to make a rapid charge with the bay- 
onet, and rouse the enemy from their covert. 

The order wa$ instantly obeyed, and, at first, appar- 
ently with great effect. Swarms of dusky bodies arose 
from the high grass and fled before the regiment, with 
every mark of consternation ; but as the troops were 
unable to overtake them, they quickly recovered their 
courage, and kept up so fatal a retreating fire that the 
exhausted regulars were compelled in their turn to give 
way. This- charge, however, relieved that particular 
point for some time; but the weight of the fire was trans- 
ferred to the center of the first line, where it threatened 
to annihilate every thing within its range. There, in 
turn, the unfortunate general was borne by his attend- 
ants, and ordered a second appeal to the bayonet. This 
second charge was made with the same impetuosity as 



ARTHUR ST. CLAIR. 267 

at first, and with the same momentary success. But 
the attack was instantly shifted to another point, where 
the same charge was made and the same result followed. 
The Indians would retire before them, still keeping up 
a most fatal fire, and the continentals were uniformly 
compelled to retire in turn. St. Clair brought up the 
artillery, in order to sweep the bushes with grape; but 
the horses and artillerymen were destroyed by the terri- 
ble fire of the enemy before any effect could be pro- 
duced. They- were instantly manned afresh from the 
infantry, and again swept of defenders. 

The slaughter had now become prodigious. Four- 
fifths of the officers and one-half of the men were either 
killed or wounded. The ground was covered with bodies, 
and the little ravine which led to the river was running 
with blood. The fire of the enemy had not in the least 
slackened, and the troops were falling in heaps before it 
in every part of the camp. To have attempted to have 
maintained his position longer could only have led to 
the total destruction of his force, without the possibility 
of annoying the enemy, who never showed themselves 
unless when charged, and whose numbers (to judge from 
the weight and extent of the fire) must have greatly ex- 
ceeded his own. The men were evidently much dis- 
heartened ; but the officers, who were chiefly veterans 
of the Revolution, still maintained a firm countenance, 
and exerted themselves with unavailing heroism to the 
last. Under these circumstances, St. Clair determined 
to save the lives of the survivors if possible, and for 
that purpose collected the remnants of several battalions 
into one corps, at the head of which he ordered Lieu- 
tenant-Colonel Darke to make an impetuous charge up- 
on the enemy, in order to open a passage for the remain- 
der of the army. Darke executed his orders with great 
spirit, and drove the Indians before him to the distance 
of a quarter of a mile. The remainder of the army 
instantly rushed through the opening in order to gain 
the road, Major Clarke, with the remnant of his bat- 
talion, bringing up the rear, and endeavoring to keep 
the Indians in check. 

The retreat soon degenerated into a total rout. Offi- 



268 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

cers who strove to arrest the panic only sacrificed them- 
selves. Clarke, the leader of the rear-guard, soon fell 
in this dangerous service, and his corps were totally 
disorganized. Officers and soldiers were now mingled 
without the slightest regard to discipline, and "devil 
take the hindmost" was the order of the day. The pur- 
suit at first was keen ; but the temptation afforded by 
the plunder of the camp soon brought them back, and 
the wearied, wounded, and disheartened fugitives were 
permitted to retire from the field unmolested. The rout 
continued as far as Fort Jefferson, twenty-nine miles 
from the scene of action. The action lasted more than 
three hours, during the whole of which time the fire 
was heavy and incessant. 

The loss, in proportion to the number engaged, was 
enormous, and is unparalleled, except in the affair of 
Braddock. Sixty-eight officers were killed upon the 
spot, and twenty -eight wounded. Out of nine hundred 
privates who went into the action, five hundred and 
fifty were left dead upon the field, and many of the 
survivors were wounded. General St. Clair was un- 
touched, although eight balls passed through his hat 
and clothes, and several horses were killed under him.* 

The Indian loss was reported by themselves at fifty- 
eight killed and wounded, which was probably not un- 
derrated, as they were never visible after the first at- 
tack until charged with the bayonet. At Fort Jeffer- 
son, the fugitives were joined by the first regiment, 
who, as noticed above, had been detached in pursuit 
of the deserters. Here a council of war was called, 
which terminated in the unanimous opinion that the 
junction with the first regiment did not justify an at- 
tempt upon the enemy in the present condition of affairs, 
and that the army should return to Fort Washington 
without delay. This was accordingly done; and thus 
closed the second campaign against the Indians. 

The unfortunate general was, as usual, assailed from 



* General St. Clair's horses were killed, as well as those of his 
aids. He was placed by a few friends upon an exhausted pack- 
horse that could not be pricked out of a walk, and in this condi- 
tion followed in the rear of the troops. 



ARTHUR ST. CLAIR. 269 

one end of the country to the other — but particularly 
in Kentucky — with one loud and merciless outcry of 
abuse, and even detestation. All the misfortunes of 
his life (and they were many and bitter) were brought 
up in array against him. He was reproached with 
cowardice, treason, imbecility, and a disposition to pro- 
long the war in order to preserve that authority which 
it gave him. He was charged with sacrificing the lives 
of his men and the interests of his country to his own 
private ambition. Men who had never fired a rifle, and 
never beheld an Indian, criticised severely the plan of 
his encampment and the order of his battle ; and in 
short all the bitter ingredients which compose the cup 
of the unsuccessful general were drained to the dregs. 

It seems to be a universal, and, probably, a correct 
rule that, as the general reaps all the glory of success, 
so, in like manner, he should sustain all the disgrace 
of defeat. A victorious general*, whether by a lucky 
blunder or otherwise, is distinguished for life, and an 
unfortunate one is degraded. No charge in the one 
case, or excuse in the other, is listened to for a moment. 
Victory hides every blemish, and misfortune obscures 
every virtue. This is the popular rule for estimating 
the merits of a leader, which, for a time, might elevate 
a noisy Cleon to the level of an Alexander. But the 
historian decides otherwise. Let us look at the un- 
fortunate St. Clair's conduct, and see if it deserves the 
furious and unbounded censure which has been heaped 
upon it. It is acknowledged that, although attacked 
suddenly (all Indian attacks are sudden), he was not 
surprised ; his troops were encamped in order of battle, 
and formed in a moment. 

He can not be charged with remissness, for he had 
arrayed them in order of battle three hours before day- 
light, and they had just been dismissed when the attack 
commenced. He can not be charged with incom- 
petency during the action, for all his measures, if allow- 
ance be made for the circumstances attending it, were 
bold, judicious, and military.* He did not suffer his 

* See Appendix. 



270 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

men to be shot down in their ranks, as in Braddock's 
case, but made repeated, desperate, and successful 
charges against the enemy, which nothing but their 
overwhelming superiority of numbers prevented from 
being decisive. The troops, in general, behaved with 
firmness, the officers were the flower of the old Con- 
tinental army, and not a man deserted his colors until 
the order was given to retreat. 

The charge of cowardice is unworthy of an answer. 
It could only be brought by a blind and ignorant pop- 
ulace, stung with rage, as they ever are, at defeat, and 
pouring upon their unhappy victim every reproach 
which rage, ignorance, and the malice of interested 
demagogues may suggest. It may be observed, that St. 
Clair always stood high in the opinion of Washington, 
notwithstanding his repeated misfortunes, and that in 
his last battle, although worn down by a cruel disease, 
he exposed his person in every part of the action, de- 
livered his orders with coolness and judgment, and was 
one of the last who arrived at Fort Jefferson in the re- 
treat. His whole life, afterward, was one long and wast- 
ing struggle with poverty, reproach, and misfortune. 

When demanding a compensation to which he con- 
sidered himself entitled, before the Congress of the 
United States, a demand to which he had been com- 
pelled by the stern pressure of want, old aae, and de- 
crepitude, he was stigmatized by a member of that body 
as a "pauper!" and his claim rejected — rejected on 
that same floor where a princely present was bestowed 
on Lafayette, for services of the same kind which were 
refused to be acknowledged in the case of the unhappy 
and really indigent St. Clair ! In the one case, their 
generosity would resound through the world, and 
gratify national pride. In the other, it would only 
have been an act of obscure justice. The official letter 
of St. Clair, at once temperate, mournful, and dignified, 
is subjoined in the appendix. 



It remains only to mention such private incidents as 
we have been enabled to collect. The late William 



WILLIAM KENNAN. 271 

Kennan, of Fleming County, at that time a young 
man of eighteen, was attached to the corps of rangers 
who accompanied the regular force. He had long been 
remarkable for strength and activity. In the course 
of the march from Fort Washington, he had repeated 
opportunities of testing his astonishing powers in that 
respect, and was universally admitted to be the swiftest 
runner of the light corps. On the evening preceding 
the action, his corps had been advanced, as already ob- 
served, a few hundred yards in front of the first line of 
infantry, in order to give seasonable notice of the ene- 
my's approach. Just as day was dawning, he observed 
about thirty Indians within one hundred yards of the 
guard fire, advancing cautiously toward the spot where 
he stood, together with about twenty rangers, the rest 
being considerably in the rear. 

Supposing it to be a mere, scouting party, as usual, 
and not superior in number to the rangers, he sprang 
forward a few paces in order to shelter himself in a spot 
of peculiarly rank grass, and firing with a quick aim 
upon the foremost Indian, he instantly fell flat upon 
his face, and proceeded with all possible rapidity to re- 
load his gun, not doubting for a moment but that the 
rangers would maintain their position and support him. 
The Indians, however, rushed forward in such over- 
whelming masses, that the rangers were compelled to 
fly with precipitation, leaving young Kennan in total 
ignorance of his danger. Fortunately, the captain of 
his company had observed him when he threw himself 
in the grass, and suddenly shouted aloud, "Run, Ken- 
nan! or you are a dead man !" He instantly sprang to 
his feet, and beheld Indians within ten feet of him, 
while his company was already more than one hundred 
yards in front. 

Not a moment was to be lost. He darted off with 
every muscle strained to its utmost, and was pursued 
by a dozen of the enemy with loud yells. He at first 
pressed straight forw r ard to the usual fording place in 
the creek which ran between the rangers and the main 
army, but several Indians who had passed him before 
he arose from the grass, threw themselves in the way, 
25 



272 WESTERN AD VENT URE. 

and completely cut him off from the rest. By the most 
powerful exertions he had thrown the whole body of 
pursuers behind him, with the exception of one young 
chief (probably Messhawa), who displayed a swiftness 
and perseverance equal to his own. In the circuit which 
Kennan was obliged to take, the race continued for more 
than four hundred yards. The distance between them 
was about eighteen feet, which Kennan could not in- 
crease nor his adversary diminish. Each, for the time, 
put his whole soul in the race. 

Kennan, as far as he was able, kept his eye upon the 
motions of his pursuer, lest he should throw the toma- 
hawk, which he held aloft in a menacing attitude, and 
at length, finding that no other Indian was immediately 
at hand, he determined to try the mettle of his pursuer 
in a different manner, and felt for his tomahawk in order 
to turn at bay. It had escaped from its sheath, how- 
ever, while he lay in the grass, and his hair had almost 
lifted the cap from his head, when he saw himself to- 
tally disarmed. As he had slackened his pace for a 
moment, the Indian was almost within reach of him when 
he recommenced the race, but the idea of being without 
arms lent wings to his flight, and for the first time he 
saw himself gaining ground. He had watched the mo- 
tions of his pursuer too closely, however, to pay proper 
attention to the nature of the ground before him, and 
he suddenly found himself in front of a large tree which 
had been blown down, and upon which brush and other 
impediments lay to the height of eight or nine feet. 

The Indian (who, heretofore, had not uttered the 
slightest sound) now gave a short quick yell, as if se- 
cure of his victim. Kennan had not a moment to de- 
liberate. He must clear the impediment at a leap or 
perish. Putting his whole soul into the effort, he 
bounded into the air with a power which astonished 
himself, and clearing limbs, brush, and every, thing else, 
alighted in perfect safety upon the other side. A loud 
yell of astonishment burst from the band of pursuers, 
not one of whom had the hardihood to attempt the 
same feat. Kennan, as may be readily imagined, had 
no leisure to enjoy his triumph, but dashing into the 



WILLIAM KENNAN. 273 

bed of the creek (upon the banks of which his feat had 
been performed) where the high banks would shield him, 
from the fire of the enemy, he ran up the stream until 
a convenient place offered for crossing, and rejoined the 
rangers in the rear of the encampment, panting from 
the iatigue of exertions which have seldom been sur- 
passed. No breathing time was allowed him, how- 
ever. The attack instantly commenced, and as we have 
already observed, was maintained for three hours with 
unabated fury. 

When the retreat commenced Kennan was attached 
to Major Clarke's battalion, and had the dangerous serv- 
ice of protecting the rear. This corps quickly lost its 
commander, and was completely disorganized. Kennan 
was among the hindmost when the flight commenced, 
but exerting those same powers which had saved him in 
the morning, he quickly gained the front, passing sev- 
eral horsemen in the flight. Here he beheld a private 
in his own company, an intimate acquaintance, lying 
upon the ground, with his thigh broken, and in tones 
of the most piercing distress, implored each horseman 
who hurried by to take him up behind him. As soon 
as he beheld Kennan coming up on foot, he stretched 
out his arms, and called loud upon him to save him. 
Notwithstanding the imminent peril of the moment, his 
friend could not reject so passionate an appeal, but seiz- 
ing him in his arms, he placed him upon his back, and 
ran in that manner for several hundred yards. Horse- 
man after horseman passed them, all of whom refused 
to relieve him of his burden. 

At length the enemy was gaining upon him so fast 
that Kennan saw their death certain, unless he relin- 
quished his burden. He accordingly told his friend 
that he had used every possible exertion to save his life, 
but in vain ; that he must relax his hold around his 
neck, or they would both perish. The unhappy wretch, 
heedless of every remonstrance, still clung convulsively 
to his back, and impeded his exertions until the fore- 
most of the enemy (armed with tomahawks alone) were 
within twenty yards of them. Kennan then drew his 
knife from its sheath and cut the fingers of his com- 



274 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

panioh, thus compelling him to relinquish his hold. 
The unhappy man roiled upon the ground in utter help- 
lessness, and Kennau beheld him tomahawked before he 
had gone thirty yards. Relieved from his burden he 
darted forward with an activity which once more brought 
him to the van. Here again he Avas compelled to neg- 
lect his own safety in order to attend to that of others. 
The late Governor Madison, of Kentucky, who after- 
ward commanded the corps which defended themselves 
so honorably at Raisin, a man who united the most 
amiable temper to the most unconquerable courage, was 
at that time a subaltern in St. Clair's army, and being 
a man of infirm constitution, was totally exhausted by 
the exertions of the morning, and was now sitting down 
calmly upon a log, awaiting the approach of his ene- 
mies. Kennan hastily accosted him, and inquired the 
cause of his delay. Madison, pointing to a wound 
which had bled profusely, replied that he was unable to 
walk further, and had no horse. Kennan instantly ran 
back to a spot where he had seen an exhausted horse 
grazing, caught him without difficulty, and having as- 
sisted Madison to mount, walked by his side until they 
were out of danger. Fortunately, the pursuit soon 
ceased, as the pluuder of the camp presented irresistible 
attractions to the enemy. The friendship thus.formed 
between the-e two young men, endured without inter- 
ruption through life. Mr. Kennan never entirely re- 
covered from the immense exertions which he was com- 
pelled to make during this unfortunate expedition. He 
settled in Fleming County, and continued for many 
years a leading member of the Baptist Church. He 
died in 1827. 



A party of Chickasaws were on their march to join 
St. Clair, but did not arrive in time to share in the 
action. One warrior of that nation alone was present, 
and displayed the most admirable address and activity. 
He positively refused to stand in the ranks with the sol- 
diers, declaring that the " Shawnees would shoot him 
down like a wild pigeon," but took refuge behind a log 



CAPTAIN KIRK WOOD. 275 

a few yards in front of Butler's battalion, and dis- 
charged his rifle eleven times at the enemy with un- 
erring accuracy. He could not be persuaded, however, 
to forego the pleasure of scalping each Indian as he fell, 
and in performing this agreeable office, he at length was 
shot down by the enemy, and scalped in turn. 



The leader of the Indian army in this bloody engage- 
ment, was a chief of the Missassago tribe, known by 
the name of the " Little Turtle." Notwithstanding 
his name, he was at least six feet high, strong, muscular, 
and remarkably dignified in his appearance. He was 
forty years of age, had seen much service, and had ac- 
companied Burgoyne in his disastrous invasion. His 
aspect was harsh, sour, and forbidding, and his person 
during the action was arrayed in the very extremity of 
Indian foppery, having at least twenty dollars worth of 
silver depending from his nose and ears. The plan of 
attack" was conceived by him alone, in opposition to the 
opinion of almost every other chief. Notwithstanding 
his ability, however, he was said to have been unpop- 
ular among the Indians, probably in consequence of 
those very abilities. 



Many veteran officers of inferior rank, who had 
served with distinction throughout the Revolutionary 
War, were destined to perish in this unhappy action. 
Among them was the gallant and unrewarded Captain 
Kirkwood, of the old Delaware line, so often and so 
honorably mentioned in Lee's Memoirs. The State of 
Delaware having had but one regiment on Continental 
establishment, and that regiment having been reduced 
to a company at Camden, it was impossible for Kirk- 
wood to be promoted without a violation of the ordinary 
rules by which commissions were regulated. He, ac- 
cordingly, had the mortification of beholding junior 
officers" daily mounting above him in the scale of rank, 
while he himself, however meritorious, was compelled 
to remain in his present condition, on account of the 



276 WESTERN AD VENTURE. 

small force which his native state could bring into the 
field. 

Notwithstanding this constant source of mortification, 
he fought with distinguished gallantry throughout the 
war, and was personally engaged in the battles of Cam- 
den, Guilford, Hobkirks, Ninety-six, and Eutaw, the 
hottest and bloodiest which occurred during the Revo- 
lution. At the peace of 1733, he returned with a 
broken fortune, but a high reputation for courage, honor, 
and probity, and upon the re-appearance of war in the 
North-west, he hastened once more to the scene of action, 
and submitted, without reluctance, to the command of 
officers who had been boys while he was fighting those 
severe battles in the South. He fell in a brave attempt 
to repel the enemy with the bayonet, and thus closed a 
career as honorable as it was unrewarded. 



Lieutenant Colonel Darke's escape was almost mi- 
raculous. Possessed of a tall, striking figure, in full 
uniform, and superbly mounted, he headed three des- 
perate charges against the enemy, in each of which he 
was a conspicuous mark. His clothes were cut in many 
places, but he escaped with only a slight flesh wound. 
In the last charge, Ensign Wilson, a youth of seven- 
teen, was shot through the heart, and fell a few paces 
in the rear of the regiment, which was then rather rap- 
idly returning to its original position. An Indian, 
attracted by his rich uniform, sprang up from the grass, 
and rushed forward to scalp him. Darke, who was at 
that time in the rear of his regiment, suddenly faced 
about, dashed at the Indian on horseback, and cleft his 
skull with his broad-sword, drawing upon himself by 
the act a rapid discharge of more than a dozen rifles. 
He rejoined his regiment, however, in safety, being com- 
pelled to leave the body of young Wilson to the 
enemy. On the evening of the eighth of November, 
the broken remains of the army arrived at Fort Wash- 
ington, and were placed in winter-quartei*. 



ANTHONY WAYNE. 277 



CHAPTER XIV. 

AMIDST the almost universal clamor which arose 
upon the defeat of the unfortunate St. Clair, Gen- 
eral Washington himself did not entirely escape cen- 
sure. The appointment of an old, infirm, and above 
all, an unlucky general to a command which, above all 
other qualities, required activity, promptitude, and the 
power of sustaining great fatigue, was reprobated in no 
measured terms. Public opinion* imperiously demand- 
ed a better selection for the third offensive campaign, 
and St. Clair was necessarily superseded. The choice 
of a proper successor became the theme of general dis- 
cussion, and was a matter of no small difficulty. The 
command was eagerly sought by many officers of the 
Revolution, among whom the most prominent were 
General Wayne, of Pennsylvania, and the late General 
Henry Lee, of Virginia, the celebrated commandant of 
the Partisan Legion during the war of Independence. 
The peculiar fitness of Lee for a command of that 
kind, seems to have impressed itself strongly upon the 
mind of Washington, and there is a letter extant which 
shows that nothing but the discontent which the appoint- 
ment of so young an officer would naturally have ex- 
cited in the minds of those who had held a rank above 
him in the former war, could have prevented his being 
the successor of St. Clair. This objection did not ap- 
ply to Wayne, and as he had repeatedly proved himself 
a bold, active, and energetic commander, his appoint- 
ment w r as unacceptable to those only whose claims had 
been rejected — a description of men very difficult to be 
pleased. Wayne had entered the army as colonel of a 
regiment in the Pennsylvania line, and first attracted 
notice in the Canadian expedition. He there displayed 



278 WESTERN ADVENTUKE. 

so keen a relish for battle upon all occasions, and upon 
any terms, exposed his own life as well as those of his 
men with such recklessness, and was in the habit of 
swearing so hard in the heat of battle, that he soon ob- 
tained among the common soldiers the nickname of 
"Mad Anthony." 

He never enjoyed a high reputation as an officer of 
prudence, science, and combination, and on one occasion 
particularly was surprised by the celebrated English 
partisan, Grey, and routed with a slaughter scarcely in- 
ferior to that of St. Clair. As an executive officer, how- 
ever, he was incomparable. He seemed to be of opinion 
that the whole science of war consisted in giving and 
taking hard blows; and we have heard, from one who 
served under him many years, that his favorite word of 
command was, "Charge the d — d rascals with the bayo- 
net!" Whenever (as at Stony Point) a bold, brisk on- 
set was all that was required, no better general than 
Wayne could possibly be selected, but on other occasions 
his keen appetite for action was apt to hurry him into an 
imprudent exposure of his troops. 

In Virginia he once narrowly escaped total destruction 
by pressing too eagerly upon Lord Cornwallis, who af- 
terward repeatedly affirmed that one-half hour more of 
daylight would have sufficed for the destruction of his 
rash but gallant enemy; and afterward, in the Caro- 
linas, his quarters were broken up, and his whole camp 
thrown into confusion, by a small party of Creek In- 
dians, who fell upon him as unexpectedly as if they had 
risen from the earth. Several severe losses, however, 
which he received in the course of his career, had taught 
him to temper his courage' with a moderate degree of 
caution, and a,s he was remarkably popular among the 
common soldiers (.who are better judges of the ordinary 
quality of courage than the higher military talents) he 
was supposed to be peculiarly qualified for re-animating 
the cowering spirits of the troops. 

There was an interval of more than a year between 
the defeat of St. Clair and the appointment of his suc- 
cessor. AVayne lost no time in proceeding to the head- 
quarters of the western army, and arrived at Fort Wash- 



ANTHONY WAYNE. 279 

ington in the spring of 1793. Reinforcements of regu- 
lar troops were constantly arriving, and, in addition to 
the usual complement of cavalry and artillery, a strong 
legionary corps was raised upon continental establish- 
ment, and placed under his command. In addition to 
this, he was authorized to call upon the Governor of 
Kentucky (Shelby) for as many mounted militia as 
might be necessary. It was so late in the season, how- 
ever, before all the various forces could be collected, and 
all the necessary supplies procured, that he judged it 
prudent to defer any offensive movement until the spring. 

The mounted volunteers were accordingly dismissed 
with some flattering encomiums upon their zeal and 
readiness, while the regular forces were placed in winter- 
quarters. The volunteers returned to Kentucky with a 
high idea of the efficiency of the regular force under 
"Wayne, and sanguine expectations of a favorable result. 
The rapid succession of disasters which had heretofore 
attended the operations of regulars in conjunction with 
militia, had created a strong disgust to that species of 
force, and it was with difficulty that a sufficient number 
of mounted men could be procured for co-operation. 
But, after witnessing the order, diligence, and energy 
which characterized Wayne's conduct as an officer, and 
the indefatigable labor with which he drilled his troops 
into a ready performance of the necessary movements, 
this disrelish to a co-operation with regulars completely 
vanished, and on the following spring the volunteers 
proffered their services with great alacrity. 

During the winter Wayne remained at a fort which 
he had built upon a western fork of the Little Miami, 
and to which he had given the name of Greenville. By 
detachments from the regular troops he was enabled to 
sweep the country lying between him and the Miami vil- 
lages, and having taken possession of the ground upon 
which St. Clair w T as defeated, he erected a small fort 
upon it, to which he gave the name of Recovery. His 
orders were positive to endeavor, if possible, to procure 
peace upon reasonable terms without resorting to force, 
and he accordingly opened several conferences with the 
hostile tribes during the winter. 



280 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

Many of their chiefs visited him in his camp, and ex- 
amined his troops, artillery, and equipments with great 
attention, and from time to time made ample professions 
of a disposition to bury the hatchet; but nothing defi- 
nite could be drawn from them, and from the known 
partiality of Wayne to the decision of the sword, could 
it be supposed that he pressed the overtures with much 
eagerness? As the spring approached, the visits of the 
Indians became more rare, and their professions of 
friendship waxed fainter. In February they threw 
aside the mask at once, and made a bold effort to carry 
the distant outpost at Fort Recovery by a coup-de-main. 
In this, however, they were frustrated by the vigilance 
and energy of the garrison ; and, finding that Wayne 
was neither to be surprised nor deceived, they employed 
themselves in collecting their utmost strength, with a 
determination to abide the brunt of battle. 

In the spring the general called upon the Governor 
of Kentucky for a detachment of mounted men, who 
repaired with great alacrity to his standard in two brig- 
ades, under Todd and Barbee, the whole commanded by 
Major-General Scott, amounting to more than fifteen 
hundred men accustomed to Indian warfare. The regu- 
lar force, including cavalry and artillery, amounted to 
about two thousand, so that the general found himself 
at the head of three thousand men, well provided with 
every thing, in high spirits, and eager for battle. The 
Indian force did not exceed two thousand, and was known 
to have assembled in the neighborhood of the British 
fort at the rapids of the Miami. 

It was late in July before Wayne was ready to march 
from Greenville, and, from the nature of the country as 
well as the necessity of guarding against surprise, his 
progress was very leisurely. On the nineteenth of Au- 
gust, when within a day's* march of the enemy's position, 
he determined to send a messenger, charged with the 
last offer of peace and friendship which he intended to 
make. For this dangerous and apparently useless office, 
he selected a private volunteer named Miller, who had 
formerly been taken by the Indiaus, and lived for many 
years upon the banks of the Miami. Miller, however, 



ANTHONY WAYNE. 281 

appeared to value his own neck much more highly than 
the general did, as he stoutly remonstrated against the 
duty, declaring that it would be useless to the army as 
well as destructive to himself. 

He declared confidently that the Indians, from many 
undoubted signs, were resolutely bent upon battle, and 
would listen to nothing of which he might be the bearer. 
He added that he knew them of old, and was satisfied 
that they would roast him alive, without an instant's 
hesitation, in defiance of his white flag and sacred char- 
acter of embassador. Wayne, however, was not to be 
diverted from his purpose. He assured Miller that he 
would hold eight or ten Indians, then in his camp, as 
hostages for his safe return, and, if the enemy roasted 
him, he swore that a noble hecatomb should be offered 
to his manes, as he would compel all his prisoners to un- 
dergo the same fate; but concluded with an assurance 
that the Indians, when informed of his determination, 
would dismiss him in perfect safety, for a regard to the 
lives of their friends. 

Reluctantly, and with many dark prophecies of the 
fate which awaited him, he at length consented to go 
upon the mission, and, having taken leave of his friends, 
he set off at a rapid pace for the Indian camp. When 
within view of it, he hoisted a white flag upon a pole, 
and marched boldly forward, knowing that in this, as 
in most other cases, the boldest is the safest course. As 
soon as they beheld him approaching, they ran out to 
meet him with loud yells, brandishing their tomahawks, 
and crying out, in their own language, "Kill the run- 
away!" Miller, who well understood their language, 
instantly addressed them with great earnestness, and in 
a few words made known the cause of his visit, and the 
guarantee which Wayne held for his safe return. To 
the first part of the intelligence they listened with su- 
preme contempt. A long conference ensued, in which 
many chiefs spoke, but nothing could be determined 
upon. 

On the next clay Miller was ordered to return to 
Wayne with some evasive message, intending to amuse 
him until they could devise some means of recovering 



282 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 



their friends. He accordingly left them with great 
readiness, and was returning with all possible dispatch, 
when he met the general in full march upon the enemy, 
having become tired of waiting for the return of his 
messenger. Wayne's object in sending Miller is difficult 
to be conjectured. The Indians had constantly refused 
to come to any terms ; they had sent away their women, 
and given every indication of a disposition to fight, and 
were in possession of ground which would give them im- 
mense advantages against the regulars. He could 
scarcely suppose that a treaty could be effected, nor, 
with the prospect of battle before him, which to him 
presented all the attractions of a ball to a dandy, or a 
dinner to an epicure, is it to be supposed that he could 
have been very desirous of such an event. The ground 
was well known to many individuals in the army, and 
Miller's report could have added but little to the knowl- 
edge already existing, to say nothing of the strong prob- 
ability that he might never return from a duty so peril- 
ous. The truth is, the old general valued the life of a 
soldier at an exceedingly low rate, and thought that, 
even if the mission brought no advantage, it was at- 
tended with no other danger than the chance of death to 
a single soldier, which did not deserve a moment's 
thought. 

The general received the report of Miller without de- 
laying his march for a moment, which was continued in 
order of battle until he arrived within view of the ene- 
my. The regular force formed the center column, one 
brigade of mounted volunteers moved upon the left 
under General Barbee, the other brought up the rear 
under Brigadier Todd. The right flank was covered by 
the river, and Major Price, with a selected corps of 
mounted volunteers, w r as advanced about five miles in 
front, with orders to feel the enemy's position, and then 
fall back upon the main body. About noon, the ad- 
vanced corps received so heavy a fire from a concealed 
enemy, as to compel it to retire with precipitation. The 
heads of the columns quickly reached the hostile ground, 
and had a view of the enemy. The ground for miles 
was covered with a thick growth of timber, which ren- 



ANTHONY WAYNE. 283 

dered the operation of cavalry extremely difficult. The 
Indians occupied a thick wood in front, where an im- 
mense number of trees had been blown down by a hur- 
ricane, the branches of which were interlocked in such 
a manner as greatly to impede the exertions of the 
regulars. 

The enemy were formed in three parallel lines, at 
right angles to the river, and displayed a front of more 
than two miles. Wayne rode forward to reconnoiter 
their positions, and perceiving, from the weight and ex- 
tent of the fire, that they were in full force, he instantly 
made dispositions for the attack. The whole of the 
mounted volunteers were ordered to make a circuit, for 
the purpose of turning the right flank of the Indians ; 
the cavalry were ordered to move up under cover of the 
river bank, and if possible, turn their left ; while the 
regular infantry were formed in a thick wood in front 
of the "Fallen timber," with orders, as soon as the 
signal was given, to rush forward at full speed, without 
firing a shot, arousing the enemy from their covert at 
the point of the bayonet, and then, to deliver a close fire 
upon their backs, pressing them so closely as -not to per- 
mit them to reload their guns. All these orders were 
executed w ith precision. The mounted volunteers moved 
off rapidly to occupy the designated ground, while the 
first line of infantry was formed under the eye of the 
commander for the perilous charge in front. 

As soon as time had been given for the arrival of 
the several corps upon their respective points, the order 
was given to advance, and the infantry, rushing through 
a tremendous fire of rifles, and overleaping every im- 
pediment, hastened to close with their concealed ene- 
my and maintain the struggle on equal terms. Al- 
though their loss in this desperate charge was by no 
means inconsiderable, yet the effect was decisive. The 
enemy rose and fled before them more than two miles, 
with considerable loss, as, owing to the orders of Wayne, 
they were nearly as much exposed as the regulars. 
Such was the rapidity of the advance, and the precip- 
itation of the retreat, that only a small part of the vol- 
unteers could get up in time to share in the action, al- 



284 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

though there can be no question that their presence and 
threatening movement contributed equally with the im- 
petuous charge of the infantry to the success of the day. 

The broken remains of the Indian army were pursued 
under the guns of the British fort, and so keen was the 
ardor of Wayne's men, and so strong their resentment 
against the English, that it was with the utmost diffi- 
culty they could be restrained from storming it upon 
the spot. As it was, many of the Kentucky troops 
advanced within gunshot, and insulted the garrison 
with a select volley of oaths and epithets, which must 
have given the British commandant a high idea of 
backwoods gentility. He instantly wrote an indignant 
letter to General Wayne, complaining of the outrage, 
and demanding by what authority he trespassed upon 
the sacred precincts of a British garrison ? Now, 
"Mad Anthony" was the last man in the world to be 
dragooned into politeness, and he replied in terms little 
short of those employed by the Kentuckians, and satis- 
factorily informed Captain Campbell, the British com- 
mandant, that his only chance of safety was silence and 
civility. After some sharp messages on both sides, the 
war of the pen ceased, and the destruction of property 
began. Houses, stores, cornfields, orchards, were soon 
wrapped in flames or leveled with the earth. The dwell- 
ing house and store of Colonel McKee, the Indian 
agent, shared the fata of the rest. 

All this was performed before the face of Captain 
Campbell, who was compelled to look on in silence, and 
without any eff)rt to prevent it. There remains not 
the least question now that the Indians were not only 
encouraged in their acts of hostility by the English 
traders, but were actually supplied with arms, ammuni- 
tion, and provisions, by order of the English command- 
ant at Detroit, Colonel England.* There remains a 

-This gentleman was remarkable for his immense height and 
enormous quantity of flesh. After his return from America, the 
waggish Prince of Wales, who was himself no pigmy, became de- 
sirous of seeing him. Colonel England was one clay pointed out 
to him by Sheridan, as he was in the act of dismounting from his 
horse. The Prince regarded him with marked attention for sev- 
eral minutes, and then turning to Sheridan, said with a lau^h, 
"Colonel England, hey! You should have said Great Britain! 
by U-d ! " 



ANTHONY WAYNE. 285 

correspondence between this gentleman and McKee, in 
which urgent demands are made for fresh supplies of 
ammunition, and the approach of " the enemy " (as they 
call Wayne) is mentioned with great anxiety. After 
the battle of the Rapids, he writes that the Indians are 
much discouraged, and that "it will require great efforts 
to induce them to remain in a body" Had Wayne been 
positively informed of this circumstance, he would 
scarcely have restrained his men from a more energetic 
expression of indignation. 

The Indian force being completely dispersed, their 
cornfields cut up, and their houses destroyed, Wayne 
drew off from the neighborhood of the British post, and 
in order to hold the Indians permanently in check, he 
erected a fort at the junction of the Auglaize and Mi- 
ami, in the very heart of the Indian country, to which 
he gave the appropriate name of Defiance. As this 
was connected with Fort Washington by various inter- 
mediate fortifications, it could not fail completely to 
overawe the enemy, who, in a very short time, urgently 
and unanimously demanded peace. 

No victory could have been better timed than that 
of Wayne. The various tribes of Indians throughout 
the whole of the United States, encouraged by the re- 
peated disasters of our armies in the North-west, had 
become very unsteady and menacing in their intercourse 
with the whites. The Creeks and Cherokees, in the 
South, were already in arms, while the Oneidas, Tusca- 
roras, etc., in the North, were evidently preparing for 
hostilities. The shock of the victory at the Rapids, 
however, was felt in all quarters. The southern Indi- 
ans instantly demanded peace ; the Oneidas, conscious 
of their evil intentions, and fearful of the consequences, 
became suddenly affectionate, even to servility; and 
within a few months after the victory, all the frontiers 
enjoyed the most profound peace. Wayne reported his 
loss at thirty-three killed and one hundred wounded. 
The Indian loss could not be ascertained, but was sup- 
posed to exceed that of the Americans. This, however, 
is very doubtful, as they gave way immediately, and 
were not so much exposed as the continentals. 



286 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

One circumstance attending their flight is remarka- 
ble and deserves to be inserted. Three Indians, being 
hard pressed by the cavalry upon one side, and the in- 
fantry upon the other, plunged into the river and at- 
tempted to swim to the opposite shore. A runaway 
negro, who had attached himself to the American army, 
was concealed in the bushes on the opposite bank, and 
perceiving three Indians approaching nearer than in his 
opinion was consistent with the security of his hiding- 
place, he collected courage enough to level his rifle at 
the foremost, as he was swimming, and shot him through 
the head. The other two Indians instantly halted in the 
water, and attempted to drag the body of their dead 
companion ashore. The negro, in the meantime, re- 
loaded his gun and shot another dead upon the spot. 
The survivor then seized hold of both bodies, and at- 
tempted, with a fidelity which seems astonishing, to 
bring them both to land. The negro having had leisure 
to reload a second time, and firing from his covert upon 
the surviving Indian, wounded him mortally while 
struggling with the dead bodies. He then ventured to 
approach them, and from the striking resemblance of 
their features, as well as their devoted attachment, they 
were supposed to have been brothers. After scalping 
them, he permitted their bodies to float down the stream. 



We shall conclude our sketches with an anecdote, 
which, although partaking somewhat of the marvelous, 
is too well authenticated to be rejected. Early in the 
spring of 1793, two boys by the name of Johnson, the 
one twelve, the other nine years of age, were playing 
on the banks of Short Creek, near the mouth of the Mus- 
kingum, and occasionally skipping stones in the water. 
At a distance, they beheld two men, dressed, like ordi- 
nary settlers, in hats and coats, who gradually approached 
them, and from time to time threw stones into the water, 
in imitation of the children. At length, when within one 
hundred yards of the boys, they suddenly threw off the 
mask, and, rushing rapidly upon them, made them pris- 
oners. They proved to be Indians of the Delaware 



TWO YOUNG JOHNSONS. 287 

tribe. Taking the children in their arms, they ran 
hastily into the woods, and after a rapid march of about 
six miles encamped for the night. Having kindled a 
fire and laid their rifles and tomahawks against an ad- 
joining tree, they laid down to rest, each with a boy in 
his arms. 

The children, as may readily be supposed, were too 
much agitated to sleep. The eldest at length began to 
move his limbs cautiously, and finding that the Indian 
who held him remained fast asleep, he gradually disen- 
gaged himself from his arms, and walking to the fire, 
which had burned low, remained several minutes in sus- 
pense as to what was next to be done. Having stirred 
the fire, and ascertained by its light the exact position 
of the enemy's arms, he whispered softly to his brother 
to imitate his example, and, if possible, extricate him- 
self from his keeper. The little fellow did as his brother 
directed, and both stood irresolute for several minutes 
around the fire. At length, the eldest, who was of a 
very resolute disposition, proposed that they should kill 
the sleeping Indians and return home. The eldest 
pointed to one of the guns, and assured his brother that 
if he would only pull the trigger of that gun after he 
had placed it in rest, he would answer for the other In- 
dian. 

The plan was soon agreed upon. The rifle was lev- 
eled, with the muzzle resting upon a log which lay near, 
and having stationed his brother at the breech, with 
positive directions not to touch the trigger until he gave 
the word, he seized a tomahawk and advanced cautiously 
to the other sleeper. Such was the agitation of the 
younger, however, that he touched the trigger too soon, 
and the report of his gun awakened the other Indian 
before his brother was quite prepared. He struck the 
blow, however, with firmness, although, in the hurry of 
the act, it was done with the blunt part of the hatchet, 
and only stunned his antagonist. Quickly repeating the 
blow, however, with the edge, he inflicted a deep wound 
upon the Indian's head, and after repeated strokes, left 
him lifeless upon the spot. The younger, frightened at 
the explosion of his own gun, had already betaken him- 
26 



288 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

self to his heel*, and was with difficulty overtaken by 
his brother. Having regained the road by which they 
had advanced, the elder fixed his hat upon a bush, in 
order to mark the spot, and by daylight they had re- 
gained their homes. 

They found their mother in an agony of grief for their 
loss, and ignorant whether they had been drowned or 
taken by the Indians. Their tale was heard with as- 
tonishment, not unmingled with incredulity, and a few 
of the neighbors insisted upon accompanying them in- 
stantly to the spot where so extraordinary a rencounter 
had occurred. The place was soon found and the truth 
of the boy's story placed beyond doubt. The toma- 
hawked Indian lay in his blood, where he fell; but the 
one who had been shot was not to be found. A broad 
trail of blood, however, enabled them to trace his foot- 
steps, and he was at length overtaken. His appearance 
was most ghastly. His under jaw had been entirely shot 
away, and his hands and breast were covered with clot- 
ted blood. Although evidently much exhausted, he 
still kept his pursuers at bay, and faced them from time 
to time with an air of determined resolution. Either 
his gory appearance, or the apprehension that more 
were in the neighborhood, had such an effect upon his 
pursuers that, notwithstanding their numbers, he was 
permitted to escape. Whether he survived, or perished 
in the wilderness, could never be ascertained ; but from 
the severity of the wound, the latter supposition is most 
probable. 



From the peace of 1794 down to the renewal of war 
in the North-west, under the auspices of Tecumseh and 
the Prophet, no event occurred of sufficient importance 
to claim our notice. The war was over, and even pri- 
vate and individual aggression was of rare occurrence. 
The country which had been the scene of those fierce 
conflicts which we have endeavored to relate, became 
settled with a rapidity totally unprecedented in the an- 
nals of the world. The forests became rapidly thinned, 
and the game equally as rapidly disappeared. Numer- 



CONCLUSION. 289 

ous villages, as if by enchantment, were daily spring- 
ing up in those wild scenes where Kenton, Crawford, 
Slover, and Johnston had endured such sufferings; and 
the Indians, from fierce and numerous tribes, were 
gradually melting down to a few squalid wanderers, 
hovering like restless spirits around the scenes of their 
former glory, or driven, with insult, from the doors of 
the settlers, where they were perpetually calling for 
food and rum. Such wanderers were frequently mur- 
dered by lawless white men, who, like the rovers of 
old, contended that "there was no peace beyond the 
line," and as such offenses were rarely punished, the 
Indians at length became satisfied that they must either 
retire beyond the reach of the whites or make one last 
effort to retrieve the sinking fortunes of their race. 
Tecumseh was the great apostle of this reviving spirit, 
and to do him justice, displayed a genius and perse- 
verance worthy of a better fate. As these events, how- 
ever, are beyond our limits, we must refer the young 
reader, who may have accompanied us thus far, to the 
histories of the day, where his curiosity will be amply 
gratified. 



APPENDIX. 



IN the life of Kenton, we had occasion to refer to 
various names and circumstances, which, in our anx- 
iety to preserve the unity and connection of the narra- 
tive, we passed over very slightly at the time, reserving 
a more full detail for the present place. We allude 
to the celebrated war upon the Kenawha, generally 
known by the name of Dunmore's expedition, in which 
the names of Logan, Lewis, Girty, Cornstalk, etc., figure 
conspicuously. Many and various reasons have been 
assigned for this war. Some have attributed it to the 
murder of Logan's family by Cresap; others, to the 
equally atrocious murder of " Bald Eagle," a celebrated 
Delaware chief. Both, probably, contributed to hasten 
the rupture, which, however, would unquestionably have 
taken place without either. The cause of this, as of all 
other Indian wars, is to be found in the jealousy and 
uneasiness with which the Indians beheld the rapid ex- 
tension of the white settlements. After the peace of 
1763, large tracts of land, in the West, had been as- 
signed as bounties to such officers and soldiers as had 
fought throughout the war. Accordingly, as soon as 
peace was restored, crowds of emigrants hastened to 
the West, attended by the usual swarm of surveyors, 
speculators, etc. The inhabitants of the frontiers be- 
came mingled with the Indians. They visited and re- 
ceived visits from each other, and frequently met in 
their hunting parties. Peace existed between the na- 
tions, but the old, vindictive feelings, occasioned by 
mutual injuries, still rankled in the breast of individ- 

(291) 



292 APPENDIX. 

uals. Civilities were quickly followed by murders, 
which led to retaliation, remonstrances, promises of 
amendment, and generally closed with fresh murders. 

The murder of "Bald Eagle," an aged Delaware 
sachem, was peculiarly irritating to that warlike nation. 
He spoke the English language with great fluency, and 
being remarkably fond of tobacco, sweetmeats, and rum, 
all of which were generally offered to him in profusion 
in the settlements, he was a frequent visitor at the fort 
erected at the mouth of the Kenawha, and familiarly 
acquainted even with the children. He usually as- 
cended the river alone, in a bark canoe, and, from the 
frequency and harmlessness of his visits, his appear- 
ance never excited the least alarm. A white man, who 
had suffered much from the Indians, encountered the 
old chief one evening alone upon the river, returning 
peaceably from one of his usual visits. A conference 
ensued, which terminated in a quarrel, and the old 
man was killed upon the spot. The murderer, having 
scalped his victim, fixed the dead body in the usual 
sitting posture in the stern of the boat, replaced the 
pipe in his mouth, and, launching the canoe again up- 
on the river, permitted it to float down with its burden 
undisturbed. Many settlers beheld it descending in this 
manner, but, from the upright posture of the old man, 
they supposed that he was only returning, as usual, 
from a visit to the whites. The truth, however, was 
quickly discovered, and inflamed his tribe with the most 
ungovernable rage. Vengeance was vowed for the out- 
rage, and amply exacted. 

At length hostilities upon this remote frontier became 
so serious as to demand the attention of government. 
One of the boldest of these forays was conducted by 
Logan in person. Supposing that the inhabitants of 
the interior would consider themselves secure from the 
Indians, and neglect those precautions which were gener- 
ally used upon the frontier, he determined, with a small 
but select band of followers, to penetrate to the thick 
settlements upon the head-waters of the Monongahela, 
and wreak his vengeance upon its unsuspecting inhab- 
itants. The march was conducted with the usual se- 



APPENDIX. 293 

crecy of Indian warriors, and with great effect. Many 
scalps and several prisoners were taken, with which, by 
the signal conduct of their chief, they were enabled to 
elude all pursuit, and return in safety to their towns. 

One of the incidents attending this incursion deserves 
to be mentioned, as illustrating the character of Logan. 
While hovering, with his followers, around the skirts 
of a thick settlement, he suddenly came in view of a 
small field, recently cleared, in which three men were 
pulling flax. Causing the greater part of his men to 
remain where they were, Logan, together with two 
others, crept up within long shot of the white men and 
fired. One man fell dead ; the remaining two attempted 
to escape. The elder of the fugitives (Hellew) was 
quickly overtaken and made prisoner by Logan's asso- 
ciates, while Logan himself, having thrown down his 
rifle, pressed forward alone in pursuit of the younger of 
the white men, whose name Avas Robinson. The contest 
was keen for several hundred yards, but Robinson, un- 
luckily* looking around in order to have a view of his 
pursuer, ran against a tree with such violence as com- 
pletely to stun him, and render him insensible for 
several minutes. 

Upon recovering, he found himself bound and lying 
upon his back, while Logan sat by his side, with un- 
moved gravity, awaiting his recovery. He was then 
compelled to accompany them in their further attempts 
upon the settlements, and in the course of a few days 
was marched off, with great rapidity, for their villages 
in Ohio. During the march, Logan remained silent 
and melancholy, probably brooding over the total de- 
struction of his family. The prisoners, however, were 
treated kindly, until they arrived at an Indian village 
upon the Muskingum. When within a mile of the 
town, Logan became more animated, and uttered the 
" scalp halloo" several times, in the most terrible tones. 
The never-failing scene of insult and torture then began. 
Crowds flocked out to meet them, and a line was formed 
for the gauntlet. 

Logan took no share in the cruel game, but did not 
attempt to repress it. He, however, gave Robinson, 



294 APPENDIX. 

whom he regarded as his own prisoner, some directions 
as to the best means of reaching the council-house in 
safety, and displayed some anxiety for his safe arrival, 
while poor Hellew was left in total ignorance, and per- 
mitted to struggle forward as he best could. Robin- 
son, under the patronage of Logan, escaped with a few 
slight bruises ; but Hellew, not knowing where to run, 
was dreadfully mangled, and would probably have been 
killed upon the spot had not Robinson (not without 
great risk on his own part) seized him by the hand, 
and dragged him into the council-house. 

On the following morning a council was called, in 
order to determine their fate, in which Logan held a 
conspicuous superiority over all who were assembled. 
Hel lew's destiny came first under discussion, and was 
quickly decided by an almost unanimous vote of adop- 
tion. Robinson's was most difficult to determine. A 
majority of the council (partly influenced by a natural 
thirst for vengeance upon at least one object, partly, 
perhaps, by a lurking jealousy of the imposing supe- 
riority of Logan's character) were obstinately bent up- 
on putting him to death. Logan spoke for nearly an 
hour upon the question; and, if Robinson is to be be- 
lieved, with an energy, copiousness, and dignity which 
would not have disgraced Henry himself. He appeared 
at no loss for either words or ideas; his tones were 
deep and musical, and were heard by the assembly 
with the silence of death. All, however, was vain. 
Robinson was condemned, and, within an hour after- 
wards, was fastened to the stake. Logan stood apart 
from the crowd with his arms folded, and his eyes fixed 
upon the scene with an air of stern displeasure. 

When the fire was about to be applied, he suddenly 
strode into the circle, pushing aside those who stood in 
the way, and, advancing straight up to the stake, cut 
the cords with his tomahawk, and taking the prisoner 
by the hand, led him, with a determined air, to his 
own wigwam. The action was so totally unexpected, 
and the air of the chief so determined, that he had 
reached the door of his wigwam before any one ven- 
tured to interfere. Much dissatisfaction was then ex- 



APPENDIX. 295 

pressed, and threatening symptoms of a tumult ap- 
peared; but so deeply looted was his authority, that in 
a few hours all was quiet, aud Robinson, without 
opposition, was permitted to enter an Indian family. 
He remained with Logan until the treaty of Fort Pitt, 
in the autumn of the ensuing year, when he returned 
to Virginia. He ever retained the most unbounded 
admiration for Logan, and repeatedly declared, that 
his countenance, when speaking, was the most striking, 
varied, and impressive that he ever beheld. And 
when it is recollected that he had often heard Lee and 
Henry, in all their glory, the compliment must be re- 
garded as a very high one. 

This, together with various other marauding expe- 
ditions, generally carried on by small parties, deter- 
mined the governor of Virginia (Dunmore) to assemble 
a large force, and carry the war into their own terri- 
tories. The plan of the expedition was soon arranged. 
Three complete regiments were to be raised west of the 
Blue Ridge, under the command of General Andrew 
Lewis; while an equal force, from the interior, was 
commanded by Dunmore in person. The armies w r ere 
to form a junction at the mouth of the Great Ke- 
nawha, and proceed together, under Dunmore, to the 
Indian towns in Ohio. 

On the first of September, 1774, a part of General 
Lewis's division, consisting of two regiments, under 
the orders of Colonel Charles Lewis, his brother, and 
Colonel William Fleming, of Botetourt, rendezvoused 
at Camp Union (now Lewisburgh, Va.), where they 
w T ere joined by an independent regiment of backwoods 
volunteers, under the orders of Colonel John Fields, a 
very distinguished officer, who, together with most of 
those now assembled, had served under Braddock. 
Here they remained, awaiting the arrival of Colonel 
Christian, who was busily engaged in assembling an- 
other regiment. By the junction of Field, Lewis's force 
amounted to about eleven hundred men, accustomed to 
danger, and conducted by the flower of the border officers. 
General Lewis, as well as his brother, had been present 
at Braddock's defeat, and w 7 ere subaltern officers in two 
27 



296 APPENDIX. 

companies of Virginia riflemen, who formed the ad- 
vance of the English army. 

We shall here relate some circumstances attending 
that melancholy disaster, which are not to be found in 
the regular histories of the period. Braddock's battle- 
ground was a small bottom, containing not more than 
two acres, bounded on the east by the Monongahela, 
and upon the west by a high cliff which rises precipi- 
tately above the bottom, and which, together with the 
river, completely inclosed it. Through this cliff, and 
near its center, runs a deep gorge or ravine, the sides 
of which are nearly perpendicular, and the summits of 
which were at that time thickly covered with timber, 
rank grass, and thickets of underwood. Upon this 
cliff the Indian army lay in ambush, awaiting the ar- 
rival of their foe. The only passage for the English 
lay through the ravine, immediately in front of the 
ford. The two companies of rangers crossed the river 
in advance of the regulars, and suspecting no danger, 
immediately entered the mouth of the ravine. Brad- 
dock followed in close column, and the devoted army 
soon stood in the bottom already mentioned, the river 
in the rear, the cliff in front, and the ravine presenting 
the only practicable passage to the French fort. 

Instantly a tremendous fire opened upon them from 
the cliff above, and as the small bottom was thronged 
with red coats, immense execution was done. In the 
meantime, the two devoted companies of rangers were 
more than one hundred yards in front, and completely 
buried in the gorge already mentioned. Upon hearing 
the firing in their rear, they attempted to rejoin the 
army, but a select corps of Indian warriors rushed down 
the steep banks of the ravine and blocked up the pas- 
sage. A furious struggle ensued. The Indians could 
not possibly give way, as the banks - were too steep 
to admit of retreat in that direction ; and if they re- 
tired through the mouth of the ravine into the bottom 
below, they would have found themselves in the midst 
of the English ranks. On the other hand, the Virgin- 
ians were desperately bent upon rejoining their friends, 
which could only be done over the bodies of the Indi- 






APPENDIX. 297 

ans. Thus the gorge became the theater of a separate 
battle, far more desperate than that which raged in the 
bottom or upon the cliffs. 

In these two companies, were to be found many names 
afterward highly distinguished both in the Indian and 
British war. Here was General Lewis and his five 
brothers ; Colonel Matthews, afterward so distinguished 
at Germantown, together with four of his brothers ; 
Colonel John Field, afterward killed at Point Pleasant ; 
Colonel Grant, of Kentucky ; John McDowell, and sev- 
eral others, afterward well known in Virginia and Ken- 
tucky. The press was too great to admit of the rifle. 
Knives and tomahawks were their only weapons, and 
upon both sides (for the numbers engaged) the slaughter 
was prodigious. One-half the Virginians were left dead 
in the pass, and most of the survivors were badly wound- 
ed. The Indians suffered equally, and at length became 
so thinned as to afford room for the Virginians to pass 
them and rejoin their friends below. There all was dis- 
may and death. Braddock, unable from the nature of 
the ground to charge with effect, and too proud to re- 
treat before an enemy whom he despised, was actively, 
and as calmly as if upon parade, laboring to form his 
troops under a fire which threatened to annihilate every 
thing within its range. The event is well known. 

Upon the fall of Braddock, the troops gave way, and, 
recrossing the river, rejoined the rear guard of the army, 
after a defeat, which then had no parallel in Indian war- 
fare. Colonel Lewis afterward served as major in 
Washington's regiment, and ranked peculiarly high in 
the estimation of his -illustrious commander. He ac- 
companied Grant in his unfortunate masquerade, and 
in a brave attempt with the colonial troops to retrieve 
the fortune of the day, was w r ounded and made prisoner 
by the French. While he and Grant were together at 
Fort du Quesne, upon parole, a quarrel took place be- 
tween them, much to the amusement of the French. 
Grant, in his dispatches, had made Lewis the scapegoat, 
and thrown the whole blame of the defeat upon him ; 
whereas, in truth, the only execution that was done 
was effected by his Virginia troops. The dispatches 



298 APPENDIX. 

fell into the hands of some Indians, who brought them 
to the French commandant. Captain Lewis happened 
to be present when they were opened, and was quickly 
informed of their contents. 

Without uttering a word, he went in search of Grant, 
reproached him with the falsehood, and putting his hand 
upon his sword, directed his former commander to draw 
and defend himself upon the spot. Grant contemptu- 
ously refused to comply, upon which Lewis lost all 
temper, cursed him for a liar and a coward, and in the 
presence of two French officers spit in his face. Gen- 
eral Lewis's person considerably exceeded six feet in 
height, and was at once strongly and handsomely 
formed. His countenance was manly and stern — 
strongly expressive of that fearlessness and energy of 
character which distinguished him through life. His 
manners were plain, cold, and unbending, and his con- 
versation short, pithy, and touching only upon the 
"needful." At the general treaty with the Indian 
tribes, in 1763, General Lewis was present, and his fine 
military appearance attracted great attention, and in- 
spired somewhat of awe among the more pacific depu- 
ties. The governor of New York declared that he 
"looked like the genius of the forest; and that the 
earth seemed to tremble beneath his footsteps." 

Such as we have described him, he was now placed 
at the head of one thousand men, with orders to meet 
Dunmore at Point Pleasant. Having waited several 
days at Lewisburgh for Colonel Christian, without hear- 
ing from him, he determined no longer to delay his ad- 
vance. On the eleventh of September, he left Lewis- 
burgh, and without any adventure of importance, ar- 
rived at the concerted place of rendezvous. Dunmore 
had not yet arrived, and Lewis remained several days 
in anxious expectation of his approach. At length he 
received dispatches from the governor, informing him 
that he had changed his plan, and had determined to 
move directly upon the Scioto villages, at the same time 
ordering Lewis to cross the Ohio and join him. 

Although not much gratified at this sudden change 
of a plan which had been deliberately formed, Lew r is 



APPENDIX. 299 

i 

prepared to obey, and had issued directions for the con- 
struction of rafts, boats, etc. , in which to cross the Ohio ; 
when, on the morning of the tenth of October, two* of 
his hunters came running into camp, with the intelli- 
gence that a body of Indians was at hand, which cov- 
ered "four acres of ground." 

Upon this news, the general (having first lit his pipe) 
directed his brother, Colonel Charles Lewis, to proceed 
with his own regiment, and that of Colonel Fleming, 
and reconnoiter the ground where the enemy had been 
seen, while he held the remainder of the army ready to 
support him. Colonel Charles Lewis instantly advanced 
in the execution of his orders, and at the distance of a 
mile from camp, beheld a large body of the enemy ad- 
vancing rapidly in hope of surprising the Virginian 
camp. The sun was just rising as the rencounter took 
place, and in a few minutes the action became warm 
and bloody. Colonel Charles Lewis being much ex- 
posed, and in full uniform, was mortally wounded early 
in the action, as was Colonel Fleming, the second in 
command. The troops, having great confidence in Col- 
onel Lew T is, were much discouraged, and being hard 
pressed by the enemy, at length gave way, and attempt- 
ed to regain the camp. At this critical moment, Gen- 
eral Lewis ordered up Field's regiment, which, coming 
handsomely into action, restored the fortune of the day. 
The Indians, in turn, were routed, and compelled to re- 
tire to a spot where they had erected a rough breast- 
work of logs'. 

The action was fought in the narrow point of land 
formed by the junction of the Ohio and Kenawha. The 
Indian breastwork was formed from one river to the 
other, so as to inclose the Virginians within the point ; 
of course the breastwork formed the base, and the Vir- 
ginian camp the vertex of the triangle, of which the 
rivers were sides. Here they rallied in full force, and 
appeared determined to abide the brunt of the Virgin- 
ian force. Logan, Cornstalk, Elenipsico, Red Eagle, 
and many other celebrated chiefs were present, and were 
often heard loudly encouraging their warriors. Corn- 
stalk, chief sachem of the Shawnees, and leader of the 



300 APPENDIX. 

northern confederacy, was particularly conspicuous. As 
the repeated efforts of the whites to carry the breast- 
work became more warm and determined, the Indian 
line began to waver, and several were seen to give way. 
Cornstalk, in a moment, was upon the spot, and was 
heard distinctly to shout, " Be strong ! Be strong! " in 
tones which rose above the din of the conflict. He 
buried his hatchet in the head of one of his warriors, 
-and indignantly shaming the rest, completely restored 
the battle, which raged until four o'clock in the after- 
noon, without any decisive result. The Virginians 
fought with distinguished bravery, and suffered severely 
in those repeated charges upon the breastwork, but 
were unable to make any impression. The Indians, 
toward evening, dispatched a part of their force to 
cross both rivers, in order to prevent the escape of a 
man of the Virginians, should victory turn against 
them. 

At length General Lewis, alarmed at the extent of 
his loss and the obstinacy of the enemy, determined to 
make an effort to turn their flank with three companies 
and attack them in rear. By the aid of a small 
stream, which empties into the Kenawha a short dis- 
tance above its mouth, and which at that time had high 
and bushy banks, he was enabled to gain their rear with 
a small force, commanded by Captain (afterward gov- 
ernor) Isaac Shelby. Cornstalk instantly ordered a re- 
treat, which was performed in a masterly manner, and 
with a very slight loss, the Indians alternately advanc- 
ing and retreating in such a manner as to hold the whites 
in check until dark, when the whole body disappeared. 
The loss of the Virginians was severe, and amounted, 
in killed and wounded, to one-fourth of their whole num- 
ber. The Indian loss was comparatively trifling. The 
action was shortly followed by a treaty, at which all the 
chiefs were present except Logan, who refused to be in- 
cluded in it. He wandered among the North-western 
tribes for several years, like a restless spirit, and finally, 
in utter recklessness, became strongly addicted to gaming 
and the use of ardent spirits. He was at length mur- 
dered on a solitary journey from Detroit to the north- 



APPENDIX. 301 

eastern part of Ohio, as is generally supposed, by his 
own nephew. 

It is not a little singular that the three celebrated In- 
dian chiefs who commanded in the battle at the Point 
should all have been murdered, and that two of them 
should have met their fate upon the same spot which 
had witnessed their brave efforts to repress the extension 
of the white settlements. Cornstalk and Elenipsico, his 
son, were killed during a friendly visit to Point Pleasant 
in the summer of 1775, only a few months after the ac- 
tion. The circumstances attending the affair are thus 
related by Colonel Stewart: 

A Captain Arbuckle commanded the garrison of the 
fort erected at Point Pleasant after the battle fought by 
General Lewis with the Indians at that place, in Octo- 
ber, 1774. In the succeeding year, when the revolu- 
tionary war had commenced, the agents of Great Britain 
exerted themselves to excite the Indians to hostility 
against the United States. The mass of the Shawnees 
entertained a strong animosity against the Americans. 
But two of their chiefs, Cornstalk and Bed Hawk, not 
participating in that animosity, visited the garrison at 
the Point, where Arbuckle continued to command. 
Colonel Stewart was at the post in the character of a 
volunteer, and was an eye-witness of the facts which he 
relates. Cornstalk represented his unwillingness to take 
a part in the war on the British side, but stated that his 
nation, except himself and his tribe, were determined 
on war with us, and he supposed that he and his people 
would be compelled to go with the stream. 

On this intimation, Arbuckle resolved to detain the 
two chiefs and a third Shawnee who came with them to 
the fort as hostages, under the expectation of preventing 
thereby any hostile efforts of the nation. On the day 
before these unfortunate Indians fell victims to the fury 
of the garrison, Elenipsico, the son of Cornstalk, re- 
paired to Point Pleasant for the purpose of visiting his 
father, and on the next day two men belonging to the 
garrison, whose names were Hamilton and Gillmore, 
crossed the Kenawha, intending to hunt in the woods 
beyond it. On their return from hunting, some Indians, 



302 APPENDIX. 

who had come to view the position at the Point, con- 
cealed themselves in the weeds near the mouth of the 
Kenawha, and killed Gillmore while endeavoring to 
pass them. Colonel Stewart and Captain Arbuckle 
were standing on the opposite bank of the river at that 
time, and were surprised that a gun had been fired so 
near the fort, in violation of orders which had been is- 
sued inhibiting such an act. 

Hamilton ran down the bank and cried out that Gill- 
more w T as killed. Captain Hall commanded the com- 
pany to which Gillmore belonged. His men leaped into 
a canoe, and hastened to the relief of Hamilton. They 
brought the body of Gillmore, weltering in blood and 
the head scalped, across the river. The canoe had 
scarcely reached the shore, when Hall's men cried out, 
"Let us kill the Indians in the fort!" Captain Hall 
placed himself in front of his soldiers, and they as- 
cended the river's bank, pale with rage, and carrying 
their loaded firelocks in their hands. Colonel Stewart 
and Captain Arbuckle exerted themselves in vain to dis- 
suade these men, exasperated to madness by the specta- 
cle of Gillmore's corpse, from the cruel deed which they 
contemplated. They cocked their guns, threatening 
those gentlemen with instant death if they did not desist, 
and rushed into the fort. 

The interpreter's wife, who had been a captive among 
the Indians and felt an affection for them, ran to their 
cabin and informed them that Hall's soldiers were ad- 
vancing with the intention of taking their lives, because 
they believed that the Indians who killed Gillmore had 
come with Cornstalk's son on the preceding day. This 
the young man solemnly denied, and averre.l that he 
knew nothing of them. His father, perceiving that Ele- 
nipsico was in great agitation, encouraged him, and ad- 
vised him not to fear. "If the Great Spirit," said he, 
"has sent you here to be killed, you ought to die like a 
man!" As the soldiers approached the door, Cornstalk 
rose to meet them, and received seven or ei^ht balls, 
which instantly terminated his existence. His son was 
shot dead in the seat which he occupied. The Red 
Hawk made an attempt to climb the chimney, but fell 



APPENDIX. 303 

by the fire of some of Hall's men. " The other Indian,*' 
says Colonel Stewart, "was shamefully mangled, and I 
grieved to see him so long dying." 



ST. CLAIR'S OFFICIAL LETTEPv. 

"Fort Washington, November 9, 1791. 

"Sir: Yesterday afternoon the remains of the army 
under my command got back to this place, and I have 
now the painful task to give an account of a warm and 
as unfortunate an action as almost any that has been 
fought, in which every corps was engaged and worsted 
except the first regiment, that had been detached upon 
a service that I had the honor to inform you of in my 
last dispatch, and had not joined me. 

"On the third inst. the army had reached a creek 
about twelve yards wide, running to the southward of 
west, which I believe to have been the river St. Mary 
that empties into the Miami of the lake; arrived at the 
village about four o'clock in the afternoon, having 
marched near nine miles, and were immediately en- 
camped upon a commanding piece of ground in two 
lines, having the above-mentioned creek in front. The 
right wing, composed of Butler's, Clark's, and Patterson's 
battalions, commanded by Major-General Butler, formed 
the first line, and the left wing, consisting of Bedinger 
and Gaither's battalions, and the second regiment, com- 
manded by Colonel Darke, formed the second line, with 
an interval between them of about seventy yards, which 
w r as all the ground would allow. 

"The right flank was pretty well secured by the 
creek, a steep bank, and Faulkner's corps. Some of the 
cavalry and their pickets covered the left flank. The 
militia were sent over the creek, and advanced about 
one-quarter of a mile, and encamped in the same order. 
There were a few Indians who appeared on the opposite 
side of the creek, but fled with the utmost precipitation 
on the advance of the militia. At this place, which I 



304 APPENDIX. 

judged to be about fifteen miles from the Miami villages, 
I had determined to throw up a slight work, the plan 
of which was concerted that evening with Major Fergu- 
son, wherein to have deposited the men's knapsacks; and 
every thing else that was not of absolute necessity, and 
to have moved on to attack the enemy as soon as the 
first regiment was come up ; but they did not permit me 
to execute either, for on the fourth, about half an hour 
before sunrise, and when the men had been just dis- 
missed from the parade (for it was a constant practice to 
have them all under arms a considerable time before 
daylight), an attack was made upon the militia, who 
gave way in a very little time and rushed into camp 
through Major Butler's battalion, which, together with 
part of Clark's, they threw into considerable disorder, 
and which, notwithstanding the exertions of both these 
officers, was never altogether remedied. 

"Tne Indians followed close at their heels; the fire, 
however, of the front line checked them ; but almost 
instantaneously a very heavy attack began upon that 
line, and in a few minutes it was extended to the second 
likewise. The great weight of it was directed against 
the center of each, where the artillery was placed, and 
from which the men were repeatedly driven with great 
slaughter. Finding no great effect from the fire, and 
confusion beginning to spread from the great number 
of men who were fallen in all quarters, it became neces- 
sary to try what could be done with the bayonet. 

"Lieutenant-Colonel Darke was accordingly ordered 
to make a charge, with a part of the second line, and to 
turn the left flank of the enemy. This was executed 
with great spirit, and at first promised much success. 
The Indians instantly gave way, and were driven back 
three or four hundred yards ; but lor want of a sufficient 
number of riflemen to pursue this advantage, they soon 
returned, and the troops were obliged to give back in 
their turn. At this moment they had entered our camp 
by the left flank, having pursued back the troops that 
were posted there. 

"Another charge was made here by the second regi- 
ment, Butler's and Clark's battalions, with equal effect, 



APPENDIX. 305 

and it was repeated several times, and always with sue-* 
cess; but in all of them many men were lost, and par- 
ticularly the officers, which, with some raw troops, was 
a loss altogether irremediable. In that I just spoke of, 
made by the second regiment, and Butler's battalion, 
Major Butler was dangerously wounded, and every 
officer of the second regiment fell, except three, one of 
which, Captain Greaton, was shot through the body. 

" Our artillery being now silenced, and all the officers 
killed except Captain Ford, who was badly wounded, 
more than half of the army fallen, being cut off from 
the road, it became necessary to attempt the regaining 
it, and to make a retreat if possible. To this purpose 
the remains of the army was formed as well as circum- 
stances would admit, toward the right of the encamp- 
ment; from which, by the w 7 ay of the second line, another 
charge was made upon the enemy, as if with the design 
of turning their right flank, but it w T as in fact to gain 
the road. This was effected, and as soon as it was open 
the militia entered it, followed by the troops, Major 
Clark, with his battalion, covering the rear. 

" The retreat in those circumstances was, you may be 
sure, a precipitate one. It was in fact a flight. The 
camp and the artillery were abandoned ; but that was 
unavoidable, for not a horse was left alive to have 
drawn it off had it otherwise been practicable. But 
the most disgraceful part of the business is, that the 
greatest part of the men threw away their arms and ac- 
couterments, even after the pursuit (which continued 
about four miles) had ceased. 

" I found the road strewed with them for many miles, 
but was not able to remedy it; for having had all my 
horses killed, and being mounted upon one that could 
not be pricked out of a walk, I could not get forward 
myself, and the orders I sent forward, either to halt the 
front, or prevent the men from parting with their arms, 
were unattended to. 

" The rout continued quite to Fort Jefferson, twenty- 
nine miles, which was reached a little after sunset. 
The action began about half an hour before sunrise, 
and the retreat w r as attempted at half past nine o'clock. 



306 APPENDIX. 

"I have not yet been able to get the returns of the 
killed and wounded ; but Major-General Butler, Lieu- 
tenant-Colonel Oldham, of the militia, Majors Fergu- 
son, Hart, and Clark, are among the former. 

" I have now, sir, finished my melancholy tale ; a tale 
that will be felt, sensibly felt, by every one that has 
sympathy for private distress, or for public misfortune. 
I have nothing, sir, to lay to the charge of the troops 
but their want of discipline, which, from the short time 
they had been in service, it was impossible they should 
have acquired, and which rendered it very difficult, when 
they were thrown into confusion, to reduce them again to 
order, and is one reason why the loss has fallen so heavily 
upon the officers, who did every thing in their power to 
effect it. Neither were my own exertions wanting ; but 
worn down with illness, and suffering under a painful 
disease, unable either to mount or dismount a horse 
without assistance, they were not so great as they other- 
wise would, or perhaps ought to have been. 

"We were overpowered by numbers; but it is no 
more than justice to observe that, though composed of 
so many different species of troops, the utmost harmony 
prevailed through the whole army during the campaign. 

" At Fort Jefferson I found the first regiment, which 
had returned from the service they had been sent upon, 
without either overtaking the deserters, or meeting the 
convoy of provisions. I am not certain, sir, whether I 
ought to consider the absence of this regiment from the 
field of action as fortunate; for I very much doubt 
whether, had it been in the action, the fortune of the 
day had been turned; and if it had not, the triumph 
of the enemy would have been more complete, and the 
country would have been destitute of means of defense. 

" Taking a view of the situation of our broken troops 
at Fort Jefferson, and that there were no provisions in 
the fort, I called on the field officers for their advice 
what would be proper further to be done ; and it was 
their unanimous opinion, that the addition of the first 
regiment, unbroken as it was, did not put the army on 
so respectable a footing as it was in the morning, be- 
cause a great part of it was now unarmed ; that it had 



APPENDIX. 307 



been found unequal to the enemy, and should they come 
on, which was probable, would be found so again ; that 
the troops could not be thrown into the fort, because it 
was too small, and there was no provision in it; that 
provisions were known to be upon the road at the dis- 
tance of one, or at most two, marches ; that, therefore 
it would be proper to move without loss of time to meet 
the provisions, when the men might have the sooner an 
opportunity of some refreshment, and that a proper de- 
tachment might be sent back with it, to have it safely 
deposited in the fort. 

-This advice was accepted, and the army was put in 
motion at ten o'clock, and marched all night, and the 
succeeding day met with a quantity ot flour ; part oi it 
was distributed immediately, part taken back to sup- 
ply the army on the march to Fort Hamilton and the 
remainder, about fifty horse-loads, sent forward to Fort 

Je !?i have said, sir, in the former part of my communi- 
cation, that we were overpowered by numbers ; of that 
however, I had no other evidence but the weight of the 
fire which was always a most deadly one, and generally 
delivered from the ground, few of the enemy showing 
themselves on foot, eleept when they were jcharg** ^and 
that in a few minutes our whole camp, which extended 
above three hundred and fifty yards m length, was 
entirely surrounded and attacked on all q^ers 

« The loss, sir, the public lias sustained by the fall of 
so many officers, particularly General But er and Ma- 
nor Ferguson, can not be too much regretted but it is 
a circumstance that will alleviate the mis ortune m 
some measure, that all of them iell most gallantly do- 
ing their duty. I have the honor to be, sir, your most 
obedient servant, u ^^ ^ c ^ m 

" Hon. Secretary of War." 

Upon a review of the chapter-containing St. Clair's 
defeat, the author is aware that he will probably be 
charged with undue partiality, and perhaps with a mis- 
statement of facts, particularly as it relates to the force 



308 APPENDIX. 

of the Indian army. Mr. Marshall, in his life of 
Washington, reduces the Indian force to an equality 
with St. Clair, and Mr. Marshall, of Kentucky, appears 
to be of the same opinion. That chapter was written 
before I had particularly referred to these excellent au- 
thorities, and my own statement of the Indian force 
was taken from a book entitled "Indian- Wars," which 
professes to have derived it from the acknowledgment 
of the Indians themselves. Upon reflection, I am sat- 
isfied that the gentlemen above mentioned are correct, 
and only regret that the error, into which I was led by 
insufficient authority, can not now be remedied. 

In a private letter from Colonel McKee, the Indian 
agent, to Colonel England, at Detroit, the. Indian force 
assembled at the " Fallen Timber," a few days before 
the battle, is estimated at "one thousand men!" The 
letter concludes with an earnest demand for reinforce- 
ments! Ten days afterward the battle was fought, 
within which period it is difficult to believe that large 
reinforcements could arrive from the upper lakes, the 
only source from which they were expected. It is abso- 
lutely certain, that the Indian force opposed to Wayne 
did not exceed fifteen hundred men, although their 
whole strength was assembled. From this data, it 
would seem impossible that the force employed against 
St. Clair (more hastily collected and at shorter warn- 
ing) could have exceeded twelve or fifteen hundred 
men. Mr. Marshall, although evidently disposed to do 
that unfortunate gentleman every justice, is, neverthe- 
less, tolerably severe in his strictures upon the order of 
battle. 

He particularly censures him for posting the militia 
in front, in order to receive the first shock, and con- 
tends that they should have been formed in the center 
of the square, in order to reinforce such parts of the 
line as gave away. This, as the event turned out, would 
probably have been better than the measure actually 
adopted, but St. Clair, at the time, only conformed to 
the rule then established, and universally practiced. 
Militia was always advanced in front of regulars, and 
never incorporated with them. This was uniformly 



APPENDIX. 309 

done by "Washington, by Green (except upon one occa- 
sion, when he placed them in the rear as a reserve, 
and, when they were wanted, found them too much 
frightened to be of any use), and by every general who 
employed them. We criticise St. Clair by the light of 
forty years' additional experience in Indian warfare, 
which, at the time of his defeat, was not so well under- 
stood, at least so far as relates to the employment of 
regulars, as now. 

The close encampment of the troops was certainly 
highly improper, as battle was expected, and for battle 
he should have been always prepared. For the rest, 
we can see no room for blame. That no general charge 
was made, is true, for the simple reason that the troops, 
being totally raw, could not be brought to unite in one, 
although every possible exertion was made by officers as 
brave and intelligent as any in America. And even if 
one could have been made, there is every reason to be- 
lieve that the event of the action would have been the 
same. The Indians would have given way, but their 
retreating fire was as fatal as any other, and, had the 
regulars followed throughout the day, they could not 
have 'overtaken them, and, without a sufficient body of 
cavalry, could have made no impression upon so light- 
footed and irregular an enemy. 

That a general charge succeeded under Wayne, is 
true. But how different were the circumstances ! 
Wayne was the assailant; St. Clair was attacked sud- 
denly, and under great disadvantages. Wayne more 
than doubled his enemy in numbers; St. Clair was, at 
best, only equal to his. And, what made an incalculable 
difference, Wayne was in possession of a poweiful body 
of mounted men, who alone exceeded the whole body 
of Indians in the field. Here advantages gained by the 
bayonet could be pressed by a numerous cavalry. The 
Indians were aware of all these circumstances; they 
beheld the movement of the mounted men, in order to 
turn their position, and, finding themselves charged in 
their coverts, instantly fled, but whether from fear of 
the bayonets of the infantry or the more rapid move- 
ments of the horse, is a question which might admit 



310 APPENDIX, 

of discussion. Had Wayne encountered them with the 
bayonet alone, they would (as in St. Clair's case) have 
fled, but, like the ancient Parthians, their flight would 
have been as fatal as their advance. I have not the 
slightest disposition to detract from the well-merited 
fame of Wayne. His whole movements, during the 
campaign, displayed a boldness, vigor, and decision 
which the miserable decrepitude of St. Clair forbade him 
to exert; but it can not be denied that he fought with 
means incomparably beyond those of his predecessor. 
N. B. — General St. Clair was of the opinion that his 
defeat occurred upon the St. Mary, and it is so stated 
in his official dispatch. It is incorrect. The action was 
fought upon a small tributary-stream of the Wabash. 



INDIAN MANNERS. 

THE CHASE. 

The following numbers are chiefly collected ^from 
Lewis & Clarke and Major Long's Journal: 

"When the trading and planting occupations of the 
people are terminated, and provisions begin to fail them, 
which occurs generally in June, the chiefs assemble a 
council for the purpose of deliberating upon farther 
arrangements necessary to be made. This assembly 
decrees a feast to be prepared on a certain day, to 
which all the distinguished men of the nation are to be 
invited, and one of their number is appointed to have 
it prepared in his own lodge. On the return of this 
individual to his dwelling, he petitions his squaws to 
have pity on him, and proceed to clean and adjust the 
department; to spread the mats and skins for seats, and 
to collect wood, and bring water for cooking. He re- 
quests them to provide three or four large kettles to 
prepare the maize, and to kill their fattest dog for a 
feast. The squaws generally murmur at this last propo- 
sition, being reluctant to sacrifice these animals, which 



APPENDIX. 311 

are of great service to them in carrying burdens, like 
the dogs of the erratic Tartars; but when they are in- 
formed of the honor that awaits them, of feasting all 
the distinguished men, they undertake their duties with 
pride and satisfaction. 

" When they have performed their part, the squaws 
give notice to the husband, who then calls two or three 
old public criers to his lodge. He invites them to be 
seated near him, and, after the ceremony of smoking, 
he addresses them in a low voice, directing them to 
pass through the village and invite the individuals 
whom he names to them, to honor him, by their pres- 
ence, at the feast which is now prepared. ' Speak in 
a low voice,' says he, ' and tell them to bring their 
bowls and spoons.' The criers, having thus received 
their instructions, sally out together, and, in concert, 
sing aloud, as they pass in various directions through 
the village. In this song of invitation, the names of 
all the elect are mentioned. Having performed this 
duty, they return to the lodge, and are soon followed 
by the chiefs and warriors. The host seats himself in 
the back part of the lodge, facing the entrance, where 
he remains during the ceremony. If the host is in- 
vested with the dignity of chief, he directs those who 
enter where to seat themselves, so that the chiefs may 
be arranged on one side, and the w r arriors on the other: 
if he is a warrior, he seats the principal chiefs of the 
village by his side, who whisper, in his ear, the situa- 
tion which those who enter ought to occupy: this inti- 
mation is repeated aloud by the host; when the guests 
are all arranged, the pipe is lighted, and the indispen- 
sable ceremony of smoking proceeds. 

"The principal chief then rises, and, extending his 
expanded hand toward each in succession, gives thanks 
to them individually, by name, for the honor of their 
company, and requests their patient attention to what 
he is about to say. He then proceeds somewhat in the 
following manner: — 'Friends and relatives, we are as- 
sembled here for the purpose of consulting respecting 
the proper course to pursue in our next hunting excur- 
sion, or whether the quantitv of provisions at present 
28 



312 APPENDIX. 

on hand will justify a determination to remain here to 
weed our maize.' If it be decided to depart imme- 
diately, the subject to be then taken into view will be 
the direction, extent, and object of the route. 

" Having thus disclosed the business of the council, 
he is frequently succeeded by an old chief, who thanks 
him for his attention to their wants, and advises the 
assembly to pay great attention to what he has said, as 
he is a man of truth, of knowledge, and bravery. He 
further assures them, that they have ample cause to re- 
turn thanks to the Great Wahconda for having sent 
such a man among them. 

"The assembly then take the subject into their con- 
sideration, and, after much conversation, determine 
upon a route, which the principal chief proposes in a 
speech. This chief, previous to the council, is careful 
to ascertain the opinions and wishes of his people, and 
speaks accordingly. 

"He sometimes, however, meets with opposition from 
persons who propose other hunting-grounds; but their 
discourses are filled with compliments to his superior 
knowledge and good sense. The proceedings of the 
council are uniformly conducted with the most perfect 
good order and decorum. 

"Each speaker car ef idly abstains from militating against 
the sensibility of any of his hearers: and uncourteous ex- 
pressions toward each other, on these occasions, are never 
heard. Generally, at each pause of the speaker, the 
audience testify their approbation, aloud, by the interjec- 
tion heh ! and as they believe that he has a just right 
to his own opinions, however absurd they may appear to 
be, and opposite to their oivn, the expression of them 
excites no reprehension; and, if they can not approve, 
they do not condemn, unless urged by necessity. 

"The day assigned for their departure having ar- 
rived, the squaws load their horses and dogs, and place 
as great a w T eight upon their own backs as they can 
conveniently transport; and, after having closed the 
entrances to their several habitations, by placing a 
considerable quantity of brushwood before them, the 
whole nation departs from the village. 



APPENDIX. 313 

"The men scatter about in every direction, to recon- 
noiter the country for enemies and game; but not- 
withstanding the constant activity of the hunters, the 
people often endure severe privation from want of food, 
previously to their arrival within view of the bisons, 
an interval of fifteen or twenty days. 

" On coining in sight of the herd, the hunters speak 
kindly to their horses; applying to them the endearing 
name of father, brother, uncle, etc. ; they petition them 
not to fear the buffaloes, but to run well, and keep close 
to them, but at the same time to avoid being gored. 
The party having approached as near to the herd as 
they suppose the animals will permit, without taking 
the alarm, they halt, to give the pipe-bearer an oppor- 
tunity of smoking ; which is considered necessary to 
their success. He lights his pipe, and remains a short 
time with his head inclined, and the stem of the pipe 
extended toward the herd. He then smokes, and puffs 
the smoke toward the buffaloes, toward the heavens 
and the earth, and finally to the cardinal points suc- 
cessively. These last they distinguish by the terms, 
sunrise, sunset, cold country, and warm country ; or 
they designate them collectively by the phrase of the 
four winds. 

"The ceremony of smoking being performed, the 
word for starting is given by the principal chief. They 
immediately separate into two bands, who pass in full 
speed to the right and left, and perform a considerable 
circuit, with the object of inclosing the herd, at a con- 
siderable interval between them. They then close in 
upon the animals, and each man endeavors to kill as 
many of them as his opportunity permits. 

"It is upon this occasion that the Indians display 
their horsemanship and dexterity in archery. While 
in full run, they discharge the arrow with an aim of 
much certainty, so that it penetrates the body of the an- 
imal behind the shoulder. If it should not bury itself so 
deeply as they wish, they are often know 7 n to ride up 
to the enraged animal and withdraw it. They observe 
the direction and depth to which the arroAV enters, in 
order to ascertain whether or not the wound is mortal, 



314 APPENDIX. 

of which they can judge with a considerable degree of 
exactness ; when a death wound is inflicted the hunter 
raises a shout of exultation, to prevent others from pur- 
suing the individual of which he considers himself cer- 
tain. He then passes on in pursuit of another, and so 
on until his quiver is exhausted, or the game has fled 
beyond his farther pursuit. 

"The force of the arrow, when discharged by a dex- 
terous and athletic Indian, is very great; and we were 
even credibly informed that, under favorable circum- 
stances, it has been known to pass entirely through 
the body of a buffalo, and actually to fly some distance, 
or fall to the ground, on the opposite side of the animal. 

" Notwithstanding the apparent confusion of this en- 
gagement, and that the same animal is sometimes feath- 
ered by arrows from different archers before he is dis- 
patched, or considered mortally wounded, yet, as each 
man knows his own arrows from all others, and can also 
estimate the nature of the wound, whether it would pro- 
duce a speedy death to the animal, quarrels respecting 
the right of property in the prey seldom occur, and it 
is consigned to the more fortunate individual, whose 
weapon penetrated the most vital part. The chase 
having terminated, each Indian can trace back his de- 
vious route to the starting place, so as to recover any 
small article he may have lost. 

" A fleet horse, well trained to hunt, runs at the pro- 
per distance, with the reins thrown upon his neck, par- 
allel with the buffalo, turns as he turns, and does not 
cease to exert his speed until the shoulder of the animal 
is presented, and the fatal arrow is implanted there. He 
then complies with the motion of his rider, who leans to 
one side in order to direct his course to another buffalo. 
Such horses as these are reserved by their owners ex- 
clusively for the chase, and are but rarely subjected to 
the drudgery of carrying burdens. 

" When the herd has escaped, and those that are only 
wounded or disabled are secured, the hunters proceed 
to flay and cut up the slain. Every eatable part of the 
animal is carried to the camp and preserved, excepting 
the feet and the head; but the brains are taken from 



APPENDIX. 315 

the skull for the purpose of dressing the skin, or con- 
verting it into Indian leather." 

In descending the Ontonagon River, which falls into 
Lake Superior, Mr. Schoolcraft says: "Our Indian 
guides stopped on the east side of the river to examine 
a bear-fall that had been previously set, and were over- 
joyed to find a large bear entrapped. As it was no great 
distance from the river, we all landed to enjoy the sight. 
The animal sat up on his fore paws, facing us, the hinder 
paws being pressed to the ground by a heavy weight of 
logs, which had been arranged in such a manner as to 
allow the bear to creep under, and when, by seizing the 
bait, he had sprung the trap, he could not extricate him- 
self, although with his fore paws he had demolished a 
part of the works. Alter viewing him for some time, 
a ball was fired through his head, but did not kill him. 
The bear kept his position, and seemed to growl in de- 
fiance. A second ball was aimed at the heart, and took 
effect ; but he did not re.-ign the contest immediately, 
and was at last dispatched with an ax. As soon as 
the bear fell, one of the Indians walked up, and address- 
ing him by the name of Muckwah, shook him by the 
paw with a smiling countenance, saying, in the Indian 
language, he was sorry he had been under the neces- 
sity of killing him, and hoped the offense would be for- 
given, particularly as Long-knife* had fired one of the 
balls."t 

THEIR DANCES. 

All their dances are distinguished by appropriate 
names, such as the war dance, the scalp dance, the buf- 
falo dance, the beggar's dance, etc. In Major Long's 
Journal, the beggar's dance is thus described: "About 
one hundred Ottoes, together with a deputation of the 
Ioway nation, who had been summoned by Major O'Fal- 
lon (Indian agent for the Government of the United 
States), presented themselves at our camp. The prin- 
cipal chiefs advanced before their people, and, upon in- 
vitation, seated themselves. After a short interval of 
silence, Shonga-Tonga, the Big Horse, a large, portly 

*An American. t Schoolcraft's Journal, p. 183. 



316 APPENDIX. 

Indian, of a commanding presence, arose, and said, ' My 
father, your children have come to dance before your 
tent, agreeably to our custom of honoring brave or dis- 
tinguished persons/ 

"After a suitable reply from Major O'Fallon, the 
amusement of dancing was commenced by the striking 
up of their rude instrumental and vocal music, the 
former consisting of a gong made of a large keg, over 
one end of which a skin was stretched, which was struck 
by a small stick ; and another instrument consisting of 
a stick of firm wood, notched like a saw, over the teeth 
of which a smaller stick was rubbed forcibly backward 
and forward. With these, rude as they were, very good 
time was preserved with the vocal perf >rmers, who sat 
around them ; and by all the natives as they sat, in the 
inflection of their bodies, or the movements of their 
limbs. After the lapse of a little time, three individu- 
als leaped up, and danced around for a few minutes; 
then, at a concerted signal from the master of ceremo- 
nies, the music ceased and they retired to their seats, 
uttering a loud noise, which, by patting the mouth rap- 
idly with the hand, was broken into a succession of 
similar sounds, somewhat like the hurried barking of 
a dog. Several sets of dancers succeeded, each termi- 
nating as the first. 

" In the intervals of the dances, a warrior would step 
forward and strike a flag-staff they had erected w T ith 
a stick, whip, or other weapon, and recount his martial 
deeds. This ceremony is called "striking the post,"* 
and whatever is then said, may be relied on as truth, 
being delivered in the presence of many a jealous war- 
rior and witness, who could easily detect, and would 
immediately disgrace the striker, for exaggeration and 
falsehood. This is called the beggar's dance, during 
which some presents are always expected by the per- 
formers, as tobacco, whisky, or trinkets. But, on this 
occasion, as none of these articles were immediately 
offered, the amusement was not, at first, distinguished 
by much activity. The master of ceremonies continu- 

• Of this an explanation will hereafter be given. 



APPENDIX. 317 

ally called aloud to them to exert themselves; but still 
they were somewhat dull and backward. Ietan (the 
master of ceremonies) now stepped forward and lashed 
a post with his whip, declaring that he would thus 
punish those who. would not dance. 

"This threat, from one whom they had vested with 
authority for this occasion, had a manifest effect upon 
his auditors, who were presently highly wrought up by 
the sight of two or three little mounds of tobacco twists, 
which were now laid before them, and appeared to in- 
fuse new life. After lashing the post, and making his 
threat, Ietan went on to relate his martial exploits. 
He had stolen horses, seven or eight times, from the 
Konzas ; he had first struck the bodies of three of that 
nation slain in battle. He had stolen horses from the 
Ietan nation, and had struck one of their dead. He 
had stolen horses from the Pawnees, and struck the 
body of one Pawnee Loup. He had stolen horses, 
several times, from the Omawhaws, and once from the 
Pimcas. He had struck the bodies of two Sioux. On 
a war party, in company with the Pawnees, he had 
attacked the Spaniards, and penetrated into one of their 
camps. The Spaniards, except a man and a boy, fled. 
He was at a distance before his party, and was shot at 
and missed by the man, whom he immediately shot 
down and struck. 'This, my father,' said he, 'is the 
only martial act of my life that I am ashamed of.' 

"After several rounds of dancing, and of striking at 
the post, the Miaketa, or the Little Soldier, a war-worn 
veteran, took his turn to strike the post. He leaped 
actively about, and strained his voice to the utmost 
pitch, while he portrayed some of the scenes of blood 
in which he had acted. He had struck dead bodies of 
all the red nations around, Osages, Konzas, Pawnee 
Loups, Pawnee Republicans, Grand Pawnees, Puncas, 
Omawhaws, Sioux, Paducas, La Plais or Baldheads, 
Ietans, Sacs, Foxes, and Ioways. He had struck eight 
of one nation, seven of another, etc. He was proceed- 
ing with his account, when Ietan ran up to him, put his 
hand upon his mouth, and respectfully led him to his 
seat. This act was no trifling compliment paid to the 



318 APPENDIX. 

well-known brave. It indicated, that lie had still so 
many glorious acts to speak of that he would occupy so 
much time as to prevent others from speaking, and put 
to shame the other warriors by the contrast of his ac- 
tions with theirs. 

" Their physical action is principally confined to 
leaping a small distance from the ground, with both 
feet, the body being slightly inclined ; and, upon alight- 
ing, an additional slight but sudden inclination of the 
body is made, so as to appear like a succession of jerks; 
or the feet are raised alternately, the motions of the 
body being the same. Such are their movements, in 
which the whole party corresponds; but in the figures, 
as they are termed in our assembly rooms, each indi- 
vidual performs a separate part, and each part is a 
significant pantomimic narrative. In all their variety 
of action they are careful to observe the musical ca- 
dences. In this dance, Ietan represents one who was 
in the act of stealing horses. He carried a whip in his 
hand, as did a considerable number of the Indians, and 
around his neck were thrown several leather thongs, 
for bridles and halters, the ends of which trailed on 
the ground behind him. 

"After many preparatory maneuvers, he stooped down 
and, with his knife, represented the act of cutting the 
hopples of horses; he then rode his tomahawk as chil- 
dren ride their broomsticks, making such use of his 
whip as to indicate the necessity of rapid movement, 
lest his foes should overtake him. Wa-sa-ba-jing-ga, or 
Little Black Bear, after a variety of gestures, threw 
several arrows, in succession, over his head, thereby 
indicating his familiarity with the flight of such mis- 
siles; he, at the same time, covered his eyes with his 
hand, to indicate that he was blind to danger. Others 
represented their maneuvers in battle, seeking their 
enemy, discharging at him their guns and arrows, 
etc., etc. Most of the dancers were the principal war- 
riors of the nation, men who had not condescended 
to amuse themselves or others, in this manner, for 
years before; but they now appeared in honor of the 
occasion, and to conciliate, in their best manner, the 



APPENDIX. 319 

good will of the representative of the government of 
the Big-Knives.* 

"Among these veteran warriors, Ietan, or Shamone- 
kussee, Hashea, the Broken Arm, commonly called Cut- 
nose, and Wa-sa-ba-jing-ga, or Little Black Bear, three 
youthful leaders, in particular attracted our attention. 
In consequence of having been appointed soldiers, on 
this occasion, to preserve order, they were painted en- 
tirely black. The countenance of the former indicated 
much wit, and had, in its expression, something of the 
character of that of Voltaire. He frequently excited 
the mirth of those about him by his remarks and ges- 
tures. Hashea, called Cutnose, in consequence of hav- 
ing lost the tip of his nose, in a quarrel with Ietan, 
wore a handsome robe of white wolf-skin, with an ap- 
pendage behind him called a crow. This singular deco- 
ration is a large cushion, made of the skin of a crow, 
stuffed with any light material, and variously orna- 
mented. It has two decorated sticks projecting from 
it upward, and a pendant one beneath. This apparatus 
is secured, upon the buttocks, by a girdle passing round 
the body. 

"The other actors in the scene were decorated with 
paints of several colors, fantastically disposed upon their 
persons. Several were painted with white clay, which 
had the appearance of being grooved, in many places. 
This grooved appearance is given by drawing the finger- 
nails over the part, so as to remove the pigment from 
thence in parallel lines. These lines are either recti- 
linear, undulated, or zigzag: sometimes passing over 
the forehead transversely, or vertically; sometimes in 
the same directions, or obliquely, over the whole visage, 
or upon the breast, arms, etc. Many were painted 
with red clay, in which the same lines appeared. A 
number of them had the representation of a black hand, 
with outspread fingers, on different parts of the body, 
strongly contrasted with the principal color with which 
the body was overspread. The hand was depicted in 



-The appellation by which the Indians distinguish the whites 
of the United States. 
29 



320 APPENDIX. 

different positions upon the face, breast, and back. The 
faces of others were colored one-half black and the 
other white, etc. 

"Many colored their hair with red clay; but the 
eyelids and base of the ears were generally tinged with 
vermilion. At the conclusion of the ceremony, whisky, 
which they always expect on similar occasions, was 
produced, and a small portion given to each. The 
principal chiefs, of the different nations, who had re- 
mained passive spectators of the scene, now directed 
their people to return to their camp. The word of the 
chiefs was obeyed, except by a few of the Ioways, who 
appeared to be determined to keep their places, not- 
withstanding the reiterated command of the chiefs. 
Ietan now sprang toward them, with an expression of 
much ferocity in his countenance, and, it is probable, 
a tragic scene would have been displayed had not the 
chiefs requested him to use gentle means, and thus he 
succeeded, after which the chiefs withdrew."* 

EMBASSIES. 

Charlevoix says, "In their treaties for peace, and 
generally in all their negotiations, they discover a dex- 
terity and a nobleness of sentiment which would do 
honor to the most polished nations."*)" A specimen of 
the mode of negotiating peace, among the Missouri 
Indians, which I shall extract from Major Long's 
Journal, will, in a considerable degree, sustain the fore- 
going remark of Charlevoix: it will also convey an 
idea of the formalities observed, on that occasion, with 
greater accuracy than any general observations. 

" During the stay of our detached party at the Konza 
village, several chief men of the nation requested Mr. 
Dougherty to lead a deputation, from them, to their 
enemies, the Ottoes, Missouries, and Ioways, then 
dwelling in one village on the Platte. Circumstances 
then prevented the gratification of their wishes, but he 
gave them to understand, that if the deputation should 

*Vol. 1, page 153. f Charlevoix, p. 167. 



APPENDIX. 321 

meet our party near Council Bluff, he would probably 
then be authorized to bear them company: on which 
they determined to send a party thither. Accordingly, on 
the day preceding the arrival of our steamboat at the 
position chosen for our winter cantonment, a deputation 
from the Konzas arrived for that purpose. It consisted 
of six men, lead by Herochche, or the Red War Eagle, 
one of the principal warriors of the Konza nation. 

" Mr. Dougherty having made known their pacific 
mission to Major O'Fallon, the latter expressed to them 
his cordial approbation of their intentions, and the 
following day he dispatched Mr. Dougherty with them, 
to protect them, by his presence, on their approach to 
the enemy; and to assist them, by his mediation, in 
their negotiations, should it be ibund necessary. 

" The distance of the Otto village is about twenty- 
five miles. On the journey over the prairies, they es- 
pied an object at a distance, which was mistaken for 
a man standing upon an eminence. The Indians im- 
mediately halted, when Herochche addressed them with 
the assurance that they must put their trust in the 
Master of Life, and in their leaders; and observed, that 
having journeyed thus far on their business, they must 
not return until their purpose was accomplished; that 
if it was their lot to die, no event could save them. 
'We have set out, my braves,' said he, ' to eat of the 
Ottoes victuals, and we must do so or die.' The party 
then proceeded onward. The Indians are always very 
cautious when approaching an enemy's village, on any 
occasion, and this party w 7 ell knew that their enterprise 
was full of danger. 

" In a short time, they were again brought to a halt 
by the appearance of a considerable number of men and 
horses, that were advancing toward them. After some 
consultation and reconnoitering, they sat down upon the 
ground, and lighting the peace pipe or calumet, Her- 
ochche directed the stem of it toward the object of their 
suspicion, saying: ' Smoke, friend or foe.' He then 
directed it toward the Otto village, toward the white 
people, toward heaven, and tow T ard the earth, suc- 
cessively." 



322 APPENDIX. 

The strangers, however, proved to be drovers, with 
cattle for the troops, on their way to Council Bluff. 

"Iu consequence of being thus detained, it was late 
in the afternoon when the party arrived at the Platte 
River, and as they had still eighteen miles to travel, 
and it was indispensable to their safety that they should 
reach the village before dark, Mr. Dougherty urged his 
horse rapidly forward. The Indians, who were all on 
foot, ran the whole distance, halting but twice, in order 
to cross the Elkhorn and Platte Rivers, although one 
of them was upwards of sixty years of age, and three 
of the others were much advanced in years. 

"As they drew near the Otto village, they were dis- 
covered by some boys who were collecting their horses 
together for the night, and who, in a telegraphic 
manner, communicated intelligence of their approach, 
to the people of the village, by throwing their robes 
into the air. 

" The party was soon surrounded by the inhabitants, 
who rushed toward them, riding, and running with the 
greatest impetuosity. The greatest confusion reigned 
for some time, the Ottoes, shouting, hallooing, and 
screaming, while their Konza visitors lamented aloud. 
Shamonekussee soon arrived, and restored a degree of 
order, when the business of the mission being made 
known in a few words, the Konzas were taken up, be- 
hind some of the horsemen, and conveyed as rapidly as 
possible to the lodge of Shonga-Tongo, lest personal vio- 
lence should be offered them on the way. They did 
not, however, escape the audible maledictions of the 
squaws, as they passed, but were stigmatized as 
wrinkled-faced old men with hairy chins, and ugly 
faces, and flat noses. 

" After running this species of gauntlet, they were 
quietly seated in the lodge, where they were sure of 
protection. A squaw, however, whose husband had 
been recently killed by the Konzas, rushed into the 
lodge, with the intention of seeking vengeance by kill- 
ing one of the embassadors on the spot. She stood 
suddenly before Herochche, and seemed a very demon 
of fury. She caught his eye, and at the instant, with 



APPENDIX. 323 

all her strength, she aimed a blow at his breast with a 
large knife, which was firmly grasped in her right 
hand, and which she seemed confident of sheathing in 
his heart. At that truly hopeless moment, the coun- 
tenance of the warrior remained unchanged, and even 
exhibited no emotion whatever; and when the knife 
approached its destination with the swiftness of light- 
ning, his eye stood firm, nor were its lids seen to 
quiver; so far from recoiling, or raising his arm to 
avert the blow, that he even rather protruded his breast 
to meet that death which seemed inevitable, and which 
was only averted by the sudden interposition of the 
arm of one of her nation, that received the weapon to 
the very bone. 

"Thus foiled in her attempt, the squaw was gently 
led out of the lodge, and no one offered her violence, 
or even harsh reproof. No further notice was taken 
of this transaction by either party. Food was then, as 
usual, placed before the strangers, and soon after a 
warrior entered with a pipe, which he held, while Her- 
ochche smoked, saying in a loud voice, 'You tell us 
you wish for peace ; I say I will give you a horse; let 
us see which of us will be the liar, you or 1/ The 
horse was presented to him. 

"The evening, and much of the night, were passed 
in friendly conversation, respecting the events of the 
five years' war which they had waged with each other. 
On the following morning, the Konzas were called to 
partake of the hospitality of different lodges, while the 
principal men of the village were assembled in council, 
to deliberate upon the subject of concluding a peace. 

"At noon, the joint and grand council was held in 
Crenier's lodge. The Ottoes, Missouries, and Ioways 
took their seats around the apartment, with the Kon- 
zas in the center. Herochche, whose business it was 
first to speak, holding the bowl of the calumet in his 
hand, remained immovable for the space of three- 
fourths of an hour, when he arose, pointed the stem of 
the calumet toward each of the three nations succes- 
sively, then toward heaven, and the earth, after which 
he stretched out his arm, with the palm of the hand 



324 APPENDIX. 

toward each of the members in succession. He then 
proceeded to shake each individual by the hand, after 
which he returned to his place, and renewed the mo- 
tion of the hand as before. 

"Having performed all these introductory formali- 
ties, he stood firm and erect, though perfectly easy and 
unconstrained, and with a bold expression of counte- 
nance, loud voice, and emphatic gesticulation, he thus 
addressed the council: 

"'Fathers, brothers, chiefs, warriors, and brave 
men — You are all great men : I am a poor, obscure 
individual. It has, however, become my duty to in- 
form you, that the chiefs and warriors of my nation, 
some time ago, held a council for the purpose of con- 
certing measures to terminate amicably the cruel and 
unwelcome war that has so long existed between us, 
and chosen me, all insignificant as I am, to bring you 
this pipe which I hold in my hand. I have visited 
your village, that we might all smoke from the same 
pipe, and eat from the same bowl, with the same spoon, 
in token of our future union in friendship. 

" 'On approaching your village, my friends and rel- 
atives, I thought I had not long to live. I expected 
that you would kill me and these poor men who have 
followed me. But I received encouragement from -the 
reflection, that if it should be my lot to die to-day, I 
would not have to die to-morrow, and I relied firmly 
upon the Master of Life. 

'"Nor was this anticipation of death unwarranted by 
precedent; you may recollect that, five winters ago, six 
warriors of my nation came to you, as I have now 
done, and that you killed them all but one, who had 
the good fortune to escape. This circumstance was 
vivid in my memory when I yesterday viewed your vil- 
lage in the distance ; said I, those warriors who pre- 
ceded me in the attempt to accomplish this desirable 
object, although they were greater and more brave than 
I, yet they were killed by those whom they came to 
conciliate, and why shall I not share their fate? If 
so, my bones will bleach near theirs. If, on the con- 
trary, I should escape death, I will visit the bones of 



APPENDIX. 325 

my friends. The oldest of my followers here, was 
father-in-law to the chief of those slaughtered messen- 
gers; he is poor and infirm, and has followed us with 
difficulty; his relatives also are poor, and have been 
long lamenting the loss of the chief you killed. I hope 
you will have pity on him, and give him moccasins 
(meaning a horse) to return home with, for he can not 
walk. Two or three others of my companions are also 
in want of moccasins foe their journey homeward. 

"'My friends, we wish for peace/and we are tired 
of war. There is a large tract of country intervening 
between us, from which, as it is so constantly traversed 
by our respective hostile parties, we can not either of 
us kill the game in security, to furnish our traders 
with peltries. I wish to see a large level road over 
that country, connecting our villages together, near 
which no one can conceal himself in order to kill pas- 
sengers, and that our squaws may be enabled to visit 
from village to village in safety, and not be urged, by 
fear, to cast off their packs, and betake themselves to 
the thickets, when they see any person on the route. 
Our nations have made peace frequently, but a peace 
has not been of long duration. I hope, however, that 
which we shall now establish, will continue one day, 
two days, three days, four days, five days. My 
friends! what I have told } r ou is true; I was not sent 
here to tell you lies. That is all I have to say.' 

"Herochche then lit his pipe, and presented the stem 
to the brother of the Crenier, Wasacaruja, or, he who 
eats raw, who had formerly been his intimate friend. 
The latter held the end of the stem in his hand, while 
he looked Herochche lull in the face for a considerable 
space of time. At length, he most emphatically asked, 
1 Is all true that you have spoken ? ' The other, striking 
himself repeatedly and forcibly upon the breast, an- 
swered with a loud voice, ' Yes, it is all truth that I 
have spoken.' Wasacaruja, without any further hesita- 
tion, accepted the proffered pipe, and smoked, while 
Herochche courteously held the bowl of it in his hand; 
the latter warrior then held it in succession to each 
member of council, who respectively took a whiff or 



326 APPENDIX. 

two, after which the pipe itself was presented to Wasa- 
caruja to retain. 

''It is impossible to convey an adequate idea of the 
energy and propriety with which this speech was de- 
livered, or of the dignity and self-possession of the 
speaker. Before he commenced, he hesitated, and 
looked around upon his enemies, probably in order to 
trace in the lineaments of their countenances, the ex- 
pressions of their feelings toward him. He then began 
his address, by raising his voice at once to its full in- 
tonation, producing a truly powerful effect upon the 
ear, by a contrast with the deep and long-continued si- 
lence which preceded it. He was at no loss for subject 
or for words, but proceeded right onwards to the close 
of his speech, like a full-flowing impetuous stream. 

" Wasacaruja, in consequence of having first accepted 
of the calumet, was now regarded as responsible for the 
sincerity of his friend Herochche, He, therefore arose, 
and thus addressed the embassador:— 'My friend! I 
am glad to see you on such an occasion as the present, 
and to hear that your voice is for peace. A few 
winters ago, when we were in friendship with each 
other, I visited your village, and you gave me all your 
people, saying that all the Konzas were mine. But it 
Avas not long afterward, as we hunted near your 
country, that you stole our horses, and killed some of 
our people, and I can not but believe that the same 
course will be again pursued. Nevertheless, I shall 
again repair to the same place of which I have 
spoken this autumn, for the purpose of hunting, and 
in the spring I will again visit your town. You ob- 
served that you were apprehensive of being killed as 
you approached our village, and you most probably 
would have been so, coming as you did, late in the even- 
ing, and without the usual formality of sending a 
messenger to apprize us of your approach, had you not 
been accompanied by the Big Knife, with whom you 
are so well acquainted. But we have now smoked to- 
gether, and I hope that the peace thus established may 
long continue. You say that you are in want of moc- 



APPENDIX. 327 

casins ; we will endeavor to give you one or two for 
your journey home. That is all I have to say.' 

" Herochche then apologized for his unceremonious 
entrance - into the village, by saying, that he knew it 
was customary to send forward a runner, on such an 
occasion, and he should have done so, but his friend, 
the Big Knife, whom he had previously consulted with 
that view, told him that he had full confidence in the 
magnanimity of the Ottoes. Thus the ceremony was con- 
cluded, and peace restored between the two nations."* 

WAR EXPEDITIONS. 

In this number we shall give a few striking instances 
of the dexterity and address, as well as the devoted cour- 
age, which frequently distinguish their conduct in war. 

"In the year 1763, Detroit, containing a British 
garrison of three hundred men, commanded by Major 
Gladwyn, was besieged by a confederacy of Indian 
tribes under Pontiac, an Ottoway chief, who displayed 
such a boldness in his designs, such skill in negotiation, 
and such personal courage in war, as to justify us in 
considering him one of the greatest men who have ever 
appeared among the Indian tribes of North America. 
He was the decided and constant enemy of the British 
government, and excelled all his contemporaries in both 
mental and bodily vigor. His conspiracy for making 
himself master of the town of Detroit, and destroying 
the garrison, although frustrated, is a master-piece 
among Indian stratagems ; and his victory over the 
British troops at the battle of Bloody Bridge, stands un- 
paralleled in the history of Indian wars, for the decis- 
ion and steady courage by which it was, in an open 
fight, achieved. 

"As, at the time above mentioned, every appearance 
of war was at an end, and the Indians seemed to be on 
a friendly footing, Pontiac approached Detroit without 
exciting any suspicions in the breast of the governor, 
or the inhabitants. He encamped at a little distance 
from it, and let the commandant know that he was 

* Long's Journal, vol. i, p. 310. 



328 APPENDIX. 

come to trade ; and being desirous of brightening the 
chain of p, j ace between the English and his nation, 
desired that he and his chiefs might be admitted to 
hold a council with him. The governor, still unsus- 
picious, and not in the least doubting the sincerity of 
the Indian, granted their general's request, and fixed 
on the next morning for their reception. 

" On the evening of that day, an Indian woman who 
had been appointed by Major Gladwyn to make a pair 
of Indian shoes, out of a curious elk-skin, brought 
them home. The major was so pleased with them, 
that, intending these as a present for a friend, he or- 
dered her to take the remainder back, and make it 
into others for himself. He then directed his servant 
to pay her for those she had done, aud dismissed her. 
The woman went to the door that led to the street, but 
no further; she there loitered about as if she had not 
finished the business on which she came. A servant 
at length observed her, and asked her why she staid 
there. She gave him, however, no answer. 

"Some short time after, the governor himself saw 
her, and inquired of his servant what occasioned her 
stay. Not being able to get a satisfactory answer, he 
ordered the woman to be called in. When she came 
into his presence, he desired to know what was the 
reason of her loitering about, and not hastening home 
before the gates were shut, that she might complete in 
due time the work he had given her to do. She told 
him, after much hesitation, that as he had always be- 
haved with great goodness toward her, she was unwill- 
ing to take away the remainder of the skin, because 
he put so great a value upon it ; and yet had not been 
able to prevail upon herself to tell him so. He then 
asked her why she was more reluctant to do so now 
than she had been when she made the former pair. 
With increased reluctance she answered, that she 
should never be able to bring them back. 

"His curiosity was now excited, and he insisted on her 
disclosing the secret that seemed to be struggling in her 
bosom for utterance. At last, on receiving a promise 
that the intelligence she was about to give him should 



APPENDIX. 329 

not turn to her prejudice, and that, if it appeared to 
be beneficial, she should be rewarded for it, she in- 
formed him, that at the council to be held with the In- 
dians the following day, Pontiac and his chief's intended 
to murder him ; and, afier having massacred the garri- 
son and inhabitants, to plunder the town. That for 
this purpose, all the chiefs who were to be admitted 
into the council-room had cut their guns short, so that 
they could conceal them under their blankets ; with 
which on a signal given by their general, on delivering 
the belt, they were all to rise up, and instantly to fire 
on him and his attendants. Having effected this, they 
were immediately to rush into the town, where they 
w'ould find themselves supported by a great number of 
their warriors, that w r ere to come into it during the 
sitting of the council under the pretense of trading, 
but privately armed in the same manner. Having 
gained from the woman every necessary particular rel- 
ative to the plot, and also the means by which she ac- 
quired a knowledge of them, he dismissed her with in- 
junctions of secrecy, and a promise of fulfilling on his 
part, with punctuality, the engagements he had entered 
into. 

"The intelligence the governor had just received 
gave him great uneasiness; and he immediately con- 
sulted the officer who was next him in command, on 
the subject. But this gentleman, considering the infor- 
mation as a story invented for some artful purpose, ad- 
vised him to pay no attention to it. This conclusion, 
however, had happily no weight with him. He thought 
it prudent to conclude it to be true, till he was con- 
vinced that it was not so ; and therefore, without re- 
vealing his suspicions to any other person, he took every 
needful precaution that the time would admit of. He 
walked around the fort the whole night, and saw him- 
self, that every sentinel was upon duty, and every 
weapon of defence in proper order. 

u As he traversed the ramparts that lay nearest to 
the Indian camp, he heard them in high festivity, and 
little imagining that their plot was discovered, proba- 
bly pleasing themselves with the anticipation of sue- 



330 APPENDIX. 

cess. As soon as the morning dawned, he ordered all 
the garrison under arms, and then, imparting his ap- 
prehension to a few of the principal officers, gave them 
such directions as he thought necessary. At the same 
time he sent round to all the traders, to inform them, 
that as it was expected a great number of Indians 
would enter the town that day, who might be inclined 
to plunder, he desired they would have their arms 
ready, and repel any attempt of that kind. 

" About ten o'clock, Pontiac and his chiefs arrived, 
and were conducted to the council chamber, where the 
governor and his' principal officers, each with pistols in 
his belt, awaited his arrival. As the Indians passed 
on, they could not help observing that a greater num- 
ber of troops than usual were drawn up on the parade, 
or marching about. No sooner were they entered and 
seated on the skins prepared for them, than Pontiac 
asked the governor, on what occasion his young men, 
meaning the soldiers, were thus drawn up and parading 
the streets. He received for answer, that it was only 
intended to keep them perfect in their exercise. 

"The Indian chief-warrior now began his speech, 
which contained the strongest professions of friendship 
and good-will toward the English ; and when he came 
to the delivery of the belt of wampum, the particular 
mode of which, according to the woman's information, 
was to be the signal for the chiefs to fire, the governor 
and all his attendants drew their swords half way out 
of their scabbards ; and the soldiers at the same in- 
stant made a clattering with their arms before the 
doors, which had been purposely left open. Pontiac, 
though one of the bravest of men, immediately turned 
pale and trembled ; and instead of giving the belt in 
the manner proposed, delivered it according to the 
usual way. His chiefs, who had impatiently expected 
the signal, looked at each other with astonishment, but 
continued quiet, waiting the result. 

" The governor, in his turn, made a speech, but in- 
stead of thanking the great warrior for the professions 
of friendship he had just uttered, he accused him of 
being a traitor. He told him that the English, who 



APPENDIX. 331 

knew every thing, were convinced of his treachery and 
villainous designs; and as a proof that they were ac- 
quainted with his most secret thoughts and intentions, 
he stepped towards an Indian chief that sat nearest to 
him, and drawing aside the blanket, discovered the 
shortened firelock. This entirely disconcerted the In- 
dians, and frustrated their design. 

"He then continued to tell them that, as he had 
given his word, at the time they desired an audience, 
that their persons should be safe, he would hold his 
promise inviolable, though they so little deserved it. 
However, he desired them to make the best of their 
way out of the fort, lest his young men, on being ac- 
quainted with their treacherous purposes, should cut 
every one of them to pieces. 

" Pontiac endeavored to contradict the accusation, 
and to make excuses for his suspicious conduct; but 
the governor, satisfied of the falsity of his protestations, 
would not listen to him. The Indians immediately left 
the fort - ; but, instead of being sensible of the gover- 
nor's generous behavior, they threw off the mask, and 
the next day made a regular attack upon it." 

Major Ghidwyn has not escaped censure for this 
mistaken lenity : lor, probably, had he kept a few of the 
principal chiefs prisoners, while he had them in his 
power, he might have been able to have brought the 
whole confederacy to terms, and prevented a war. But 
he atoned for his oversight by the gallant defense he 
made for more than a year, amidst a variety of discour- 
agements. 

"During that period some very smart skirmishes 
happened between the besiegers and garrison, of which 
the following was the principal and most bloody : Cap- 
tain Delzel, a brave officer, prevailed on the governor 
to give him the command of about two hundred men, 
and to permit him to attack the enemy's camp. This 
being complied with, he sallied from the town before 
daybreak ; but Pontiac, receiving from some of his 
swift-footed warriors, who w r ere constantly employed in 
watching the motions of the garrison, timely intelli- 
gence of their deisgn, collected the choicest of his 



332 APPENDIX. 

troops, and met the detachment at some distance from 
his camp, near a place since called Bloody Bridge. As 
the Indians were vastly superior in number to Cap- 
tain Delzefs party, he was soon overpowered and driven 
back. Being now nearly surrounded, he made a vig- 
orous effort to regain the bridge he had just crossed, 
by which alone he could find a retreat; but in doing 
this, he lost his life, and many of his men fell with 
him. However, Major Rogers, the second in command, 
assisted by Lieutenant Graham, found means to draw 
off the shattered remains of their little army, and con- 
ducted them into the fort. 

"Then, considerably reduced, it was with difficulty 
the major could defend the town, notwithstanding 
which, he held out against the Indians till he was re- 
lieved ; as after this they made, but few attacks upon 
the place, and only continued to blockade it. The 
Gladwyn schooner arrived about this time near the 
town, with a reinforcement, and necessary supplies. 
But before this vessel could reach the place of its des- 
tination, it was most vigorously attacked by a detach- 
ment from Pontiac's army. The Indians surrounded it 
in their canoes, and made great havoc among the crew. 

" At length, the captain of the schooner, with a con- 
siderable number of his crew, being killed, and the 
savages beginning to climb up the sides from every 
quarter, the lieutenant, being determined that the stores 
should not fall into the enemy's hands, and seeing no 
alternative, ordered the gunner to set fire to the pow- 
der-room and blow the ship up. This order was on the 
point of being executed, when a chief of the Hurons, 
who understood the English language, gave out to his 
friends the intention of the commander. On receiving 
this intelligence, the Indians hurried down the sides of 
the ship with the greatest precipitation and got as far 
from it as possible ; while the commander immediately 
took advantage of their consternation, and arrived with- 
out any further obstruction at the town. 

"This seasonable supply gave the garrison fresh 
spirits; and Pontiac, being now convinced that it 
would not be in his power to reduce the place, pro- 



APPENDIX. 333 

posed an accommodation. The governor, wishing much 
to get rid of such troublesome enemies, listened to his 
proposals, and having procured advantageous terms, 
agreed to a peace." * 

The massacre of the garrison of Michilimackinac, 
which occurred also in the year 1763, while it exhibits 
one of the most shocking instances of Indian barbarity, 
is at the same time a striking proof of the sagacity 
and dissimulation of the Indian character. It appears 
from the very interesting account given of this transac- 
tion by Henry, who was an eye-witness, "that the 
Indians were in the habit of playing at a game called 
Bag-gat-iway, which is played with a ball and a bat on 
the principles of our foot-ball, and decided by one of 
the parties heaving the ball beyond the goal of their 
adversaries. The king's birthday, the fourth of June, 
having arrived, the Sacs and Chippeways, who were en- 
camped in great numbers around the fort, turned out 
upon the green, to play at this game for a high wager, 
and attracted a number of the garrison and traders to 
witness the sport. The game of bag-gat-iway is neces- 
sarily attended with much violence and noise. In the 
ardor of contest, the ball, if it can not be thrown to 
the goal desired, is struck or thrown in any direction 
by which it can be diverted from that designed by the 
adversary. 

" At such a moment, therefore, nothing could be less 
liable to excite premature alarm, than that the ball 
should be tossed over the pickets of the fort, nor, hav- 
ing fallen there, that it should be followed on the instant 
by all engaged in the game, as well the one party as 
the other, all eager, all struggling, all shouting, in the 
unrestrained pursuit of a rude athletic exercise. Noth- 
ing, therefore, could be more happily devised, under the 
circumstances, then a stratagem like this ; and it was 
in fact the stratagem which the Indians employed to 
obtain possession of the fort, and by which they were 
enabled to slaughter and subdue its garrison, and such 
of the other inhabitants as they pleased. To be still 

* I have extracted this narrative of Pontiac's attempt on De- 
troit, from Mr. Schoolcraft, who takes it from Carver's Travels. 



334 APPENDIX. 

more certain of success, they had prevailed on as many 
as they could, by a pretext the least liable to suspicion, 
to come voluntarily without the pickets ; and particu- 
larly the commandant and garrison themselves. The 
Indians, after butchering the garrison, burnt down the 
fort." 



ADDITIONAL SKETCHES 



WESTERN ADVENTURE, 



THE WETZELS.— LEWIS WETZEL. 



[The sketch below is believed to be the most full and accu- 
rate ever compiled of Lewis Wetzel, the famous Indian hunter. 
It embraces, and mainly in their language, all the particulars 
found i-n the various accounts given of him by the following 
writers, or narrators of frontier history, viz: John McDonald, 
Joseph Pritts, Charles Cist, Major Jacob Fowler, Wills DeHass, 
John Rodefer, sen., and Joseph Doddridge. The name is fre- 
quently, but incorrectly, spelled Whetzel, Whetzell, or Whitzell.] 



LEWIS WETZEL was regarded by many of the 
settlers in the neighborhood of Wheeling, Virginia, 
between the years 1782 and 1795, as the right arm of 
their defense. His presence was considered as a tower 
of strength to the infant settlements, and. an object of 
terror to the fierce and restless savages who prowled 
about and depredated upon our frontier homes. The 
memory of Wetzel should be embalmed in the hearts 
of the people of Western Virginia; for his efforts in 
defense of their forefathers were without a parallel in 
border warfare. Among the foremost and most devoted, 
he plunged into the fearful strife which a bloody and 
relentless foe waged against the feeble colonists. He 
threw into the common treasury a soul as heroic, as 
adventurous, as full of energy, and exhaustless of re- 
sources, as ever animated the human breast. Bold, wary, 
and active, he stood without an equal in the pursuit 
30 (335) 



336 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

to which he had committed himself, mind and body. 
No man on the western frontier was more dreaded by 
the enemy, and none did more to beat him back into 
the heart of the forest, and reclaim the expanseless 
domain which we now enjoy. He was never known to 
inflict unwonted cruelty upon women and children, as 
has been charged upon him; and he never was found to 
torture or mutilate his victim, as many of the traditions 
would indicate. He was revengeful, because he had suf- 
fered deep injury at the hands of that race, and woe to 
the Indian warrior who crossed his path. He was liter- 
ally a man without fear. He was brave as a lion, cun- 
ning as a fox; "daring where daring was the wiser part 
— prudent when discretion was valor's better self." He 
seemed to possess, in a remarkable degree, that intu- 
itive knowledge which can alone constitute a good and 
efficient hunter, added to which, he was sagacious, 
prompt to act, and always aiming to render his actions 
efficient. Such was Lewis Wetzel, the celebrated In- 
dian hunter of Western Virginia. 

John Wetzel, the father of Lewis, was one of the 
first settlers on Wheeling Creek. He had five sons and 
two daughters, whose names were, respectively, Martin, 
Lewis, Jacob, John, George, Susan, and Christina. 

The elder Wetzel spent much of his time in locating 
lands, hunting, and fishing. His neighbors frequently 
admonished him against exposing himself thus to the 
enemy; but, disregarding their advice, and laughing at 
their fears, he continued to widen the range of his ex- 
cursions, until finally he fell a victim to the active 
vigilance of the tawny foe. He was killed near Cap- 
tina, in 1787, on his return from Middle Island Creek, 
under the following circumstances : Himself and com- 
panion were in a canoe, paddling slowly near the shore, 
when they were hailed by a party of Indians, and or- 
dered to land. This they of course refused, when im- 
mediately they were fired upon, and Wetzel shot 
through the body. Feeling himself mortally wounded, 
he directed his companion to lie down in the canoe, 
while he (Wetzel), so long as strength remained, would 
paddle the frail vessel beyond reach of the savages. In 



LEWIS WETZEL. 337 

this way he saved the life of his friend, while his own 
was ebbing fast. He died soon after reaching the shore, 
at Baker's Station, and his humble grave can still be 
seen near the site of that primitive fortress. A rough 
stone marks the spot, bearing, in rude but perfectly 
distinct characters, "J. W., 1787." 

At the time of his father's death, Lewis was about 
twenty- three years of age, and, in common with his 
brothers, or those who were old enough, swore sleepless 
vengeance against the whole Indian race. Terribly did 
he and they carry that resolution into effect From that 
time forward, they were devoted to the woods ; and an 
Indian, whether in peace or war, at night or by day, 
was a doomed man in the presence of either. The name 
of Wetzel sent a thrill of horror through the heart of 
the stoutest savage, before whom a more terrible image 
could not be conjured up than one of these relentless 
" Long-knives." 

The first event worthy of record, in the life of our 
hero, occurred when he was about fourteen years of age. 
The Indians had not been very troublesome in the im- 
mediate vicinity of his father's, and no great apprehen- 
sions were felt, as it was during a season of comparative 
quietude. On the occasion referred to, Lewis had just 
stepped from his father's door, and was looking at his 
brother Jacob playing, when suddenly turning toward 
the corn-crib, he saw a gun pointing around the corner. 
Quick as thought he jumped back, but not in time to 
escape the ball ; it took effect upon the breast-bone, 
carrying away a small portion, and cutting a fearful 
wound athwart the chest. In an instant, two athletic 
w r arriors sprang from behind the crib, and quietly mak- 
ing prisoners of the lads, bore them off without being 
discovered. On the second day they reached the Ohio, 
and crossing near the mouth of McMahan's Creek, 
gained the Big Lick, about twenty miles from the river. 
During the whole of this painful march, Lewis suffered 
severely from his w r ound, but bore up with true cour- 
age, knowing that if he complained the tomahawk would 
be his doom. That night, on lying down, the Indians, 
contrary to their custom, failed to tie their prisoners. 



338 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

Lewis now resolved to escape ; and, in the course of an 
hour or two, satisfying himself that the Indians were 
asleep, touched Jacob, and both arose without disturb- 
ing their captors. Lewis, leading the way, pushed into 
the woods. Finding, however, that he could not travel 
without moccasins, he returned to camp, and soon came 
back with two pair, which having fitted on, Lewis said, 
" Now I must go back for father's gun," which the 
Indians had carried off. Securing this, the two boys 
started in the direction of home. Finding the path, 
they traveled on briskly for some time; but hearing a 
noise, listened, and ascertained the Indians were in pur- 
suit. The lads stepped aside as the pursuers came up, 
and then again moved on. Soon they heard the Indians 
return, and by the same plan effectually eluded them. 
Before daylight they were again followed by two on 
horseback, but, resorting to a similar expedient, readily 
escaped detection. On the following day, about eleven 
o'clock, the boys reached the Ohio, at a point opposite 
Zane's Island. Lashing together two logs, they crossed 
over, and were once more with their friends. 

Shortly after Crawford's defeat, a man named Thomas 
Mills, in escaping from that unfortunate expedition, 
reached the Indian Spring, about nine miles from 
Wheeling, on the present National Road, where he 
was compelled t<> leave his horse, and proceed to Wheel- 
ing on foot. Thence he went to Van Metre's Fort, and, 
after a day or two of rest, induced Lewis Wetzel to go 
with him to the spring for his horse. Lewis cautioned 
him against the danger, but' Mills was determined, and 
the two started. Approaching the spring, they dis- 
covered the horse tied to a tree, and Wetzel at once 
comprehended their danger. Mills walked up to un- 
fasten the animal, when instantly a discharge of rifles fol- 
lowed, and the unfortunate man fell, mortally wounded. 
Wetzel now turned, and, knowing his only escape was 
in flight, plunged through the enemy, and bounded off 
at the very extent of his speed. Four fleet Indians 
followed in rapid pursuit, whooping in proud exulta- 
tion of soon overhauling their intended victim. After 
a chase of half a mile, one of the most active savages 



LEWIS WETZEL. 339 

approached so close that Wetzel was afraid he might 
throw his tomahawk, and, instantly wheeling, shot the 
fellow dead in his tracks. In early youth Lewis had 
acquired the habit of loading his gun while at a full 
run, and now he felt the great advantage of it. Keep- 
ing in advance of his pursuers during another half 
mile, a second Indian came up, and, turning to fire, 
the savage caught the end of his gun, and, for a time, 
the contest was doubtful. At one moment the Indian, 
by his great strength and dexterity, brought Wetzel to 
his knee, and had nearly wrenched the rifle from the 
hands of his antagonist, when Lewis, by a renewed 
effort, drew the weapon from the grasp of the savage, 
and, thrusting the muzzle against tha side of his neck, 
pulled the trigger, killing him instantly. The two other 
Indians, by this time, had nearly overtaken him ; but 
leaping forward, he kept ahead, until his unerring rifle 
was a third time loaded. Anxious to have done with 
that kind of sport, he slackened his pace, and even 
stopped once or twice to give his pursuers an oppor- 
tunity to face him. Every time, however, he looked 
round, the Indians treed, unwilling any longer to en- 
counter his destructive weapon. After running a mile 
or two farther in this manner, he reached an open piece 
of ground, and wheeling suddenly, the foremost Indian 
jumped behind a tree, but which not screening his body, 
Wetzel fired, and dangerously wounded him. The re- 
maining Indian made an immediate retreat, yelling as 
he went, "No catch dot man, him gun always loaded.'* 
In the summer of 1786, the Indians having become 
troublesome in the neighborhood of Wheeling, partic- 
ularly in the Short Creek Settlement, and a party hav- 
ing killed a man near Mingo Bottom, it was determined 
to send an expedition after the retreating enemy, of 
sufficient force to chastise them most effectually. A 
subscription or pony-purse was made up, and one hun- 
dred dollars were offered to the man who should bring 
in the first Indian scalp. Major McMahan, living at 
Beach Bottom, headed the expedition, and Lewis 
Wetzel was one of his men. They crossed the river, 
on the fifth of August, and proceeded, by a rapid march, 



840 WESTERN AD VENTURE. 

to the Muskingum. The expedition numbered about 
twenty men ; and an advance of five were detailed to 
reconnoiter. This party reported to the commander 
that they had discovered the camp of the enemy, but 
that it was far too numerous to think of making an at- 
tack. A consultation was thereupon held, and an im- 
mediate retreat determined on. During the conference 
our hero sat upon a log, with his gun carelessly resting 
across his knees. The moment it was resolved to retreat, 
most of the party started in disordered haste; but the 
commander, observing Wetzel still sitting on the log, 
turned to inquire if he was not going along. " No," 
was his sullen reply; "I came out to hunt Indians, 
and now that they are found, I am not going home, 
like a fool, with my fingers in my mouth. I am deter- 
mined to take an Indian scalp, or lose my own." All 
arguments were unavailing, and there they were com- 
pelled to leave him: a lone man, in a desolate wilder- 
ness, surrounded by an enemy — vigilant, cruel, blood- 
thirsty, and of horrid barbarity — with no friend but his 
rifle, and no guide but the sure index which an All wise 
Providence has deep set in the heavens above. Once 
by himself, and looking around, to feel satisfied that 
they were all gone, he gathered his blanket about him, 
adjusted his tomahawk and scalping-knife, shouldered 
his rifle, and moved off in an opposite direction, hoping 
that a small party of Indians might be met with. Keeping 
away from the larger streams, he strolled on cautiously, 
peering into every dell and suspicious cover, and keenly 
sensitive to the least sound of a suspicious character. 
Nothing, however, crossed his path that day. The 
night being dark and chilly, it was necessary to have a 
fire; but to show a light, in the midst of his enemy, 
would be to invite to certain destruction. To avoid this, 
he constructed a small coal-pit out of bark, dried leaves, 
etc., and covering these with loose earth, leaving an oc- 
casional air-hole, he seated himself, encircling the pit 
with his legs, and then completed the whole by cover- 
ing his head with the blanket. In this manner he would 
produce a temperature equal, as he expressed it, to that 
of a "stove-room." This was certainly an original and 



LEWIS WETZEL. 341 

ingenious mode of getting up a fire, without, at the 
same time, endangering himself by a light. 

During most of the following day he roamed through 
the forest without noticing any ''signs" of Indians. 
At length smoke was discovered, and going in the direc- 
tion of it, he found a camp, but tenantless. It contained 
two blankets and a small kettle, which Wetzel at once 
knew belonged to two Indians, who were, doubtless, out 
hunting. Concealing himself in the matted under- 
growth, he patiently awaited the return of the occupants. 
About sunset, one of the Indians came in and made up 
the fire, and went to cooking his supper. Shortly after, 
the other came in. They ate their supper, and began 
to sing, and amuse themselves by telling comic stories, 
at which they would burst into roars of laughter. 
Singing, and telling amusing stories, was the common 
practice of the white and red men, when lying in their 
hunting camps. About nine or ten o'clock, one of the 
Indians wrapped his blanket around him, shouldered 
his rifle, took a chunk of fire in his hand, and left the 
camp, doubtless with the intention of going to watch a 
deer-lick. The fire and smoke would serve to keep off the 
gnats and musquitoes. It is a remarkable fact, that deer 
are not alarmed at seeing fire, from the circumstance of 
meeting it so frequently in the fall and winter seasons, 
when the leaves and grass are dry, and the woods on 
fire. The absence of the Indian was a cause of vex- 
ation and disappointment to our hero, whose trap was 
so happily set, that he considered his game secure. 
He still indulged the hope that the Indian would return 
to camp before day, but in this he was disappointed. 
There are birds in the woods w T hich commence chirping 
just before break of day, and, like the cock, give notice 
to the woodman that light will soon appear. Lewis 
heard the wooded songsters begin to chatter, and deter- 
mined to delay no longer the work of death, for the 
return of the other Indian. He walked to the camp 
with a noiseless step, and found his victim buried in 
profound sleep, lying upon one side. He drew his 
butcher-knife, and with the utmost force, impelled by 
revenge, sent the blade through his heart. He said 



342 WESTERN AD VENT URE. 

the Indian gave a short quiver, a convulsive motion, 
and then laid still in the sleep of death. Lewis scalped 
him, and set out for home. He arrived at the Mingo 
Bottom only one day after his unsuccessful companions. 
He claimed and received the reward. 

A most fatal decoy, on the frontier, was the turkey- 
call. On several different occasions men, from the fort 
at Wheeling, had gone across the hill in quest of a 
turkey, whose plaintive cries had elicited their attention, 
and, on more than one occasion, the men never returned. 
Wetzel suspected the cause, and determined to satisfy 
himself. On the east side of the Creek Hill, and at a 
point elevated at least sixty feet above the water, there 
is a capacious cavern, the entrance to which, at that 
time, was almost obscured by a heavy growth of vines 
and foliage. Into this the alluring savage would crawl, 
and could there have an extensive view of the hill-front 
on the opposite side. From that cavern issued the de- 
coy of death to more than one incautious soldier and 
settler. Wetzel knew of the existence and exact local- 
ity of the cave, and accordingly started out before day, 
and, by a circuitous route, reached the spot from the 
rear. Posting himself so as to command a view of 
the opening, he waited patiently for the expected cry. 
Directly the twisted tuft of an Indian warrior slowly 
rose in the mouth of the cave, and, looking cautiously 
about, sent forth the long, shrill, peculiar, "cry," and 
immediately sunk back out of view. Lewis screened 
himself in his position, cocked his gun, and anxiously 
waited for a re-appearance of the head. In a few 
minutes up rose the tuft, Lewis drew a fine aim at the 
polished head, and the next instant the brains of the 
savage were scattered about the cave. That turkey 
troubled the inhabitants no longer, and tradition does 
not say whether the place was ever after similarly oc- 
cupied. 

A singular custom with this daring borderer was to 
take a fall hunt into the Indian country. Equipping 
himself, he set out and penetrated to the Muskingum, 
and fell upon a camp of four Indians. Hesitating a 
moment, whether to attack a party so much his supe- 



LEWIS WETZEL. 343 

rior in numerical strength, he determined to make the 
attempt. At the hour of midnight, when naught was 
heard but the long, dismal howl of the wolf, 

"Cruel as death, and hungry as the grave, 
Burning for blood, bony, gaunt, and grim," 

he moved cautiously from his covert, and, gliding 
through the darkness, stealthily approached the camp, 
supporting his rifle in one hand, and a tomahawk in 
the other. A dim flicker from the camp-fire faintly 
revealed the forms of the sleepers, wrapped in that 
profound slumber, which, to part of them, was to know 
no waking. There they lay, with their dark faces turned 
up to the night-sky, in the deep solitude of their own 
wilderness, little dreaming that their most relentless 
enemy was hovering over them. Quietly resting his 
gun against a tree, he unsheathed his knife, and, with 
an intrepidity that could never be surpassed, stepped 
boldly forward like the minister of death, and, quick 
as thought, cleft the skull of one of his sleeping victims. 
In an instant, a second one was similarly served ; and, as 
a third attempted to rise, confused by the horrid yells 
with which Wetzel accompanied his blows, he too shared 
the fate of his companions, and sunk dead at the feet 
of his ruthless slayer. The fourth darted into the dark- 
ness of the wood and escaped, although Wetzel pursued 
him some distance. Returning to camp, he scalped his 
victims, and then left for home. When asked, on his 
return, what luck ? " Not much," he replied. " I treed 
four Indians, but one got away." This unexampled 
achievement stamped him as one of the most daring, 
and, at the same time, successful hunters of his day. 
The distance to and from the scene of this adventure 
could not have been less than one hundred and seventy 
miles. 

During one of his scouts, in the neighborhood of 
Wheeling, our hero took shelter, on a stormy evening, 
in a deserted cabin on the bottom, not far from what was 
the residence (in 1851) of Mr. Hamilton Woods. Gath- 
ering a few broken boards, he prepared a place, in the 
loft, to sleep. Scarcely had he got himself adjusted 
31 



344 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

for a nap, when six Indians entered, and, striking a 
fire, commenced preparing their homely meal. Wetzel 
watched their movements closely, with drawn knife, 
determined, the moment he was discovered, to leap in- 
to their midst, and, in the confusion, endeavor to es- 
cape. Fortunately they did not see him ; and, soon 
after supper, the whole six fell asleep. Wetzel now 
crawled noiselessly down, and hid himself behind a 
log, at a convenient distance from the door of the 
cabin. At early dawn, a tall savage stepped from the 
door, and stretching up both hands in a long, hearty 
yawn, seemed to draw in new life from the pure, in- 
vigorating atmosphere. In an instant Wetzel had his 
finger upon the trigger, and the next moment the In- 
dian fell heavily to the ground, his life's blood gushing 
upon the young grass, brilliant with the morning dew- 
drops. The report of his rifle had not ceased echoing 
through the valley, ere the daring borderer was far- 
away, secure from all pursuit. 

Some time after General Harmar had erected a fort 
at the mouth of the Muskingum River, where Marietta 
now stands, about 1789, he employed some white men 
to go, with a flag, among the nearest Indian tribes, to 
prevail with them to come to the fort, and there to con- 
clude a treaty of peace. A large number of Indians 
came, on the general invitation, and encamped on the 
Muskingum River, a few miles above its mouth. Gen- 
eral Harmar issued a proclamation, giving notice that 
a cessation of arms was mutually agreed upon, between 
the white and red men, till an effort for a treaty of 
peace should be concluded. 

As treaties of peace with Indians had been so fre- 
quently violated, but little faith was placed in the sta- 
bility of such engagements by the frontiersmen ; notwith- 
standing that they were as frequently the aggressors as 
were the Indians. Half the backwoodsmen of that day 
had been born in a fort, and grew to manhood, as it were, 
in a siege. The Indian war had continued so long, and 
was so bloody, that they believed war with them was to 
continue as long as both survived to fight. With these 
impressions, as they considered the Indians faithless, it 



LEWIS WETZEL. 345 

was difficult to inspire confidence in the stability of 
treaties. While General Harmar was diligently engaged 
with the Indians, endeavoring to make peace, Lewis 
Wetzel concluded to go to Fort Harmar, and, as the 
Indians wouid be passing and re-passing between then- 
camp and the fort, he would have a fair opportunity of 
killing one. He associated with himself, in this enter- 
prise, a man by the name of Veach Dickerson, who 
was only a small grade below him in restless daring. 
As soon as the enterprise was resolved on, they were 
impatient to put it in execution. The more danger, the 
more excited and impatient they were to execute their 
plan. They set off without delay, and arrived at the 
desired point, and sat themselves down in ambush, near 
the path leading from the fort to the Indian camp. 
Shortly after they had concealed themselves by the way- 
side, they saw an Indian approaching on horse-back, 
running his horse at full speed. They called to him, 
but, owing to the clatter of the horse's feet, he did not 
hear or heed their call, but kept on at a sweeping gallop. 
When the Indian had nearly passed, they concluded to 
give him a shot as he rode. They fired ; but, as the 
Indian did not fall, they thought they had mr-sed him. 
As the alarm would soon be spread that an Indian had 
been shot at, and as large numbers of them were near 
at hand, they commenced an immediate retreat to their 
home. As their neighbors knew r the object of their 
expedition, as soon as they returned, they were asked, 
what luck? Wetzel answered that they had bad luck 
— they had seen but one Indian, and he on horseback — 
that they had fired at him as he rode, but he did not 
fall, but went off scratching his back, as if he had been 
stung by a yellowjacket. The truth was, they had 
shot him through the hips and lower part of the belly. 
He rode to the fort, and that night expired of his 
wound. It proved to be a large, fine-looking savage, 
of considerable celebrity, and known by the name of 
George Washington. 

It was soon rumored, to General Harmar, that Lewis 
Wetzel was the murderer. General Harmar sent a 
Captain Kingsbury, with a company of men, to the 



346 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

Mingo Bottom, with orders to take Wetzel, alive or 
dead — a useless and impotent order. A company of 
men could as easily have drawn Beelzebub out of" the 
bottomless pit, as take Lewis Wetzel, by force, from 
the Mingo Bottom settlement. On the day that Cap- 
tain Kingsbury arrived, there was a shooting- match in 
the neigh borhood, and Lewis was there. As soon as 
the object of Captain Kingsbury was ascertained, it was 
resolved to ambush the captain's barge, and kill liim 
and his company. Happily Major McMahan was 
present to prevent this catastrophe, who prevailed on 
Wetzel and his friends to suspend the attack, till he 
would pay Captain Kingsbury a visit; perhaps he would 
induce him to return without making an attempt to 
take Wetzel. With a great deal of reluctance, they 
agreed to suspend the attack till Major McMahan 
should return. The resentment and fury of Wetzel and 
his friends, were boiling and blowing like the st< j am 
from a scape-pipe of a steamboat. "A pretty affair 
this," said they, " to hang a man for killing an Indian, 
when they are killing some of our men almost every 
day." Major McMahan informed Captain Kingsbury 
of the force and fury of the people, and assured him 
that, if he persisted in the attempt to seize Wetzel, he 
would have all the settlers in the country upon him; 
that nothing could save him and his company from 
massacre, but a speedy return. The captain took his 
advice, and forthwith returned to Fort Harmar. Wetzel 
considered the affair now as finally adjusted. 

As Lewis was never long stationary, but ranged, at 
will, along the river from Fort Pitt to the falls of the 
Ohio, and was a welcome guest and perfectly at home 
wherever he went, shortly after the attempt to seize 
him by Captain Kingsbury, he got into a canoe, with 
the intention of proceeding down the Ohio to Kentucky. 
He had a friend, by the name of Hamilton Carr, who 
had lately settled on the island near Fort Harmar. 
Here he stopped, with the view of lodging for the night. 
By some means, which never were explained, General 
Harmar was advised of his being on the island. A 
guard was sent, who crossed to the island, surrounded 



LEWIS WETZEL. 347 

Mr. Car^s house, went in, and, as "Wetzel lay asleep, 
he was seized by numbers; his hands and feet securely 
bound, and he was hurried off into a boat, and from 
thence placed in a guard-room, where he was loaded 
with irons. 

The ignominy of wearing iron handcuffs and hobbles, 
and being chained down, to a man of his independent 
and resolute spirit, was more painful than death. 
Shortly after he was confined, he sent for General 
Harmar, and requested a visit. The general went. 
Wetzel admitted, without hesitation, "that he had shot 
the Indian." As he did not wish to be hung like a dog, 
he requested the general to give him up to the Indians, 
there being a large number of them present. "He 
might place them all in a circle, with their scalping 
knives and tomahawks, and give him a tomahawk and 
place him in the midst of the circle, and then let him 
and the Indians fight it out the best way they could." 
The general told him, "that he w T as an'officer appointed 
by the law, by which he must be governed. As the 
law did not authorize him to make such a compromise, 
he could not grant his request." After a few da)s' 
longer confinement, he again sent for the general to 
come and see him ; and he did so. Wetzel said "he 
had never been confined, and could not live much 
longer if he was not permitted some room to walk 
about in." 

The general ordered the officer on guard to knock off 
his iron fetters, but to leave on his handcuffs, and per- 
mit him to walk about on the point at the mouth of 
the Muskingum ; but to be sure and keep a close watch 
upon him. As soon as they were oulside the fort-gate, 
Lewis began to caper about like a wild colt broke loose 
from the stall. He w r ould start and run a few yards, 
as if he was about making an escape, then turn round 
and join the guards. The next start he would run 
farther, and then stop. In this way he amused the 
guard for some time, at every start running a little 
farther. At length he called forth all his strength, 
resolution, and activity, and determined on freedom or 
an early grave. He gave a sudden spring forward, 



318 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

and bounded off at the top of his speed for the shelter of 
his beloved woods. His movement was so quick, and 
so unexpected, that the guards were taken by surprise, 
and he got nearly a hundred yards before they recov- 
ered from their astonishment. They fired, but all 
missed ; they followed in pursuit, but he soon left them 
out of sight. As he was well acquainted with the 
country, he made for a dense thicket, about two or three 
miles from the fort. In the midst of this thicket, he 
found a tree which had fallen across a log, where the 
brush was very close. Under this tree he squeezed his 
body. The brush was so thick that he could not be 
discovered unless his pursuers examined very closely. 
As soon as his escape was announced, General Harniar 
started the soldiers and Indians in pursuit. After he 
had lain about two hours in his place of concealment, 
two Indians came into the thicket, and stood on the 
same log under which he lay concealed ; his heart beat 
so violently he was afraid they would hear it thumping. 
He could hear them hallooing in every direction as 
they hunted through the brush. At length, as the 
evening w r ore away the day, he found himself alone in 
the friendly thicket. But what should he do? His 
hands were fastened with iron cuffs and bolts, and he 
knew of no friend, on the same side of the Ohio, to 
whom he could apply for assistance. 

He had a friend who had recently put up a cabin 
on the Virginia side of the Ohio, who, he had no 
doubt, would lend him every assistance in his power. 
But to cross the river was the difficulty. He could 
not make a raft with his hands bound, and though an 
excellent swimmer, it would be risking too much to 
trust himself to the stream in that disabled condition. 
With the most gloomy foreboding of the future, he 
left the thicket as soon as the shades of night began to 
gather, and directed his way to the Ohio, by a circui- 
tous route, which brought him to a lonely spot, three 
or four miles below the fort. He made to this place, 
as he expected guards would be set at every point 
where he could find a canoe. On the opposite shore 
he saw an acquaintance, Isaac Wiseman by name, fish- 



LEWIS WETZEL. 349 

ing in a canoe. Not daring to call to him, as lie 
could not know whether his enemies were not within 
sound of his voice, he waved his hat for some time to 
attract the notice of his friend, having previously in- 
duced him to direct his eye that course by a gentle 
splashing in the water.. This brought Wiseman to his 
assistance, who readily aided his escape. Once on the 
Virginia shore, he had nothing to fear, as he had well- 
wishers all through the country, who would have shed 
blood, if necessary, for his defense. It was not, however, 
until years had elapsed, and General Harmar returned 
to Philadelphia, that it became safe for Wiseman to 
avow the act, such was the weakness of civil authority 
and the absolute supremacy of military rule on the 
frontier. A file and hammer soon released him from 
the heavy handcuffs. After the night's rest had recruited 
his energies, he set out for fresh adventures, his friend 
having supplied him with a rifle, ammunition, and 
blanket. He took a canoe and went down the river for 
Kentucky, where he should ieel safe from the grasp of 
Harmar and his myrmidons. 

Subsequently to Wetzel's escape, General Harmar re- 
moved his head-quarters to Fort Washington, Cincinnati. 
One of his first official acts there, was to issue a procla- 
mation, offering considerable rewards for the apprehen- 
sion and delivery of Lewis at the garrison there. No 
man, however, was found base or daring enough to 
attempt this service. 

On his way down, Wetzel landed at Point Pleasant, 
and following his usual humor, when he had no work 
among Indians on the carpet, ranged the town, for a 
few clays, with as much unconcern as if he were on his 
own farm. Lieutenant Kingsbury, attached to Harmar's 
own command, happened to be at the mouth of the Ke- 
nawha at the time, and scouting about, while ignorant 
of Wetzel's presence, met him — unexpectedly to both 
parties. Lewis, being generally on the qui vive, saw 
Kingsbury first, and halted with great firmness in the 
path, leaving to the lieutenant to decide his own course 
of procedure, feeling himself prepared and ready, 
whatever that might be. Kingsbury, a brave man 



350 WESTERN ADVENTURE, 

himself, had too much good feeling toward such a gal- 
lant spirit as Wetzel to attempt his injury, if it were 
even safe to do so. He contented himself with saying, 
" Get out of my sight, you Indian killer!" And Lewis, 
who was implacable to the savage only, retired slowly 
and watchfully, as a lion draws off, measuring his steps 
in the presence of the hunters, being as willing to avoid 
unnecessary danger as to seek it, when duty called him 
to act. 

He regained his canoe and put off for Limestone, at 
which place, and at Washington, the county town, he 
established his head -quarters for some time. Here he 
engaged on hunting parties, or went out with the scouts 
after Indians. When not actually engaged in such 
service, he filled up his leisure hours at shooting- 
matches, foot-racing, or wrestling with other hunters. 
Major Fowler, of Washington, who knew him well 
during this period, described him as a general favorite, 
no less from his personal qualities than for his services. 

While engaged in these occupations at Maysville, 
Lieutenant Lawler, of the regular army, who was going 
down the Ohio to Fort Washington, in what was called 
a Kentucky boat, full of soldiers, landed at Maysville, 
and found Wetzel sitting in one of the taverns. Return- 
ing to the boat, he ordered out a file of soldiers, seized 
Wetzel and dragged him on board the boat, and, with- 
out a moment's delay, pushed off, and that same night 
delivered him .to General Harmar, at Cincinnati, by 
whom the prisoner was again put in irons, preparatory to 
his trial and consequent condemnation, for what Lewis 
disdained to deny or conceal, the killing of the Indian at 
Marietta. But Harmar, like St. Clair, although acquaint- 
ed with the routine of military service, was destitute of 
the practical good sense, always indispensable in frontier 
settlements, in which such severe measures were more 
likely to rouse the settlers to flame than to intimidate 
them; and soon found the country around him in arms. 

The story of Wetzel's captivity — captured and liable 
to punishment for shooting an Indian merely — spread 
through the settlements like wild-fire, kindling the 
passions of the frontier men to a high pitch of fury. 



LEWIS WETZEL. 351 

Petitions for the release of Wetzel came in to General 
Harmar, from all quarters and all classes of society. 
To these, at first, he paid little attention. At length 
the settlements along the Ohio, and some even of the 
back counties, began to embody in military array to 
release the prisoner vi et armis. Representations were 
made to Judge Symmes, which induced him to issue a 
writ of habeas corpus in the case. John CLiwson, and 
other hunters of Columbia, who had gone down to at- 
tend his trial, went security for Wetzel's good behavior; 
and, being discharged, he was escorted with great tri- 
umph to Columbia, and treated, at that place, to his 
supper, etc. Judge Foster, who gave these last par- 
ticulars, described him at this period (August 26th, 
1789) as about twenty-six years of age, about five feet 
nine inches high. He was full-breasted, very broad 
across the shoulders; his arms were large; skin, darker 
than the other brother's; his face, heavily pitted with 
the small-pox ; his hair, of which he was very careful, 
reached, when combed out, to the calves of the legs ; 
his eyes remarkably black, and, when excited, spark- 
ling with such a vindictive glance as to indicate plainly 
it was hardly safe to provoke him to wrath. He was 
taciturn in mixed company, although the fiddle of the 
party among his social friends and acquaintances. His 
morals and habits, compared with those of his general 
associates and the tone of society in the West of that 
day, were quite exemplary. 

Shortly after his return from Kentucky, a relative, 
from Dunkard Creek, invited Lewis home with him. 
The invitation was accepted, and the two leisurely 
wended their way along, hunting and sporting as they 
traveled. On reaching the home of the young man, 
what should they see but, instead of the hospitable roof, 
a pile of smoking ruins! Wetzel instantly examined the 
trail, and found that the marauders were three Indians 
and one white man, and that they had taken one 
prisoner. That captive proved to be the betrothed of 
the young man, whom nothing could restrain from 
pushing on in immediate pursuit. Placing himself un- 
der the direction of Wetzel, the two strode on, hoping to 



352 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

overhaul the enemy before they had crossed the Ohio. 
It was found, afcer proceeding a short distance, that 
the savages had taken great care to obliterate their 
trail; but the keen discernment of Wetzel once on the 
track, and there need not be much difficulty. He knew 
they would make for the river by the most expeditious 
route, and therefore, disregarding their trail, he pushed 
on, so as to head them at the crossing-place. After an 
hour's hard travel, they struck a path which the deer 
had made, and which their sagacity had taught them 
to carry over knolls, in order to avoid the great curves 
of ravines. Wetzel followed the path because he knew 
it was in almost a direct line to the point at which he 
was aiming. Night coraino; on, the tireless and deter- 
mined hunters partook of a hurried meal, then again 
pushed forward, guided by the lamps hung in the 
heavens above them, until, toward midnight, a heavy 
clou I shut out their light and obscured the path. 
Early, on the following morning, they resumed the 
chase, and descending from the elevated ridge, along 
which they had been passing for an hour or two, found 
themselves in a deep and quiet valley, which looked as 
though human steps had never before pressed its virgin 
soil. Traveling a short distance, they discovered fresh 
footsteps in the soft sand, and, upon close examination, 
the eye of Wetzel's companion detected the impress of 
a small shoe, with nail-heads around the heel, which he 
at once recognized as belonging to his affianced. Hour 
aft^r hour the pursuit was kept up : now tracing the 
trail across the hills, over alluvian, and often detecting 
it where the wily captors had taken to the beds of 
streams. Late in the afternoon, they found themselves 
approaching the Ohio, and, shortly after dark, dis- 
covered, as they struck the river, the camp of the enemy 
on the opposite side, and just below the mouth of Cap- 
tina. Swimming the river, the two reconnoitered the 
position of the camp, and discovered the locality of 
the captive. Wetzel proposed waiting until daylight 
before making the attack, but the almost frantic lover 
was for immediate action. Wetzel, however, would 
listen to no suggestion, and thus they waited the break 



LEWIS WETZEL. 353 

of day. At early dawn, the savages were up and pre- 
paring to leave, when Wetzel directed his companion 
to take good aim at the white renegade, while he would 
make sure work of one of the Indians. They fired at 
the same moment, and with fatal effect. Instantly the 
young man rushed forward to release the captive; and 
Wetzel, reloading, pursued the two Indians who had taken 
to the woods to ascertain the strength of the attacking 
party. Wetzel pursued a short distance, and then fired 
his rifle at random, to draw the Indians from their re- 
treat. The trick succeeded, and they made alter him 
with uplifted tomahawks, yelling at the height of their 
voices. The adroit hunter soon had his rifle loaded, 
and wheeling suddenly, discharged its contents through 
the body of his nearest pursuer. The other Indian now 
rushed impetuously forward, thinking to dispatch his 
enemy in a moment. Wetzel, however, kept dodging 
from tree to tree, and, being more fleet than the Indian, 
managed to keep ahead until his unerring gun was 
again loaded, when, turning, he fired, and the last of 
the party lay dead before him. 

Soon after this, our hero determined to visit the ex- 
treme South, and for that purpose engaged on a flat-boat 
about having for New Orleans. Many months elapsed 
before his friends heard any thing of his whereabouts, 
and then it was to learn that he was in close confine- 
ment at New Orleans, under some weighty charge. 
What the exact nature of this charge was, has never 
been fully ascertained ; but it is very certain he was im- 
prisoned and treated like a fidon for nearly two years. 
The charge is supposed to have been of some trivial 
character, and has been justly regarded as a great out- 
rage. It was alleged, at the time of his arrest, to have 
been for uttering counterfeit coin ; but this being dis- 
proved, it was then charged that he had been guilty of 
illicit connection with the wife of a Spaniard. Of the 
nature of these charges, however, but little is known. He 
was finally released by the intervention of our govern- 
ment, and reached home by way of Philadelphia, to 
which city he had been sent from New Orleans. He 
remained but two days on Wheeling Creek after his 



354 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

return. From the settlement he went to Wheeling, 
where he remained a few days, and then left again for 
the South, vowing vengeance against the person whom 
he believed to have been accessory to his imprisonment, 
and in degrading his person with the vile rust of a 
felon's chain. During his visit to Wheeling, he remained 
with George Cookis, a relative. Mrs. Cookis plagued 
him about getting married, and jocularly asked whether 
he ever intended to take a wife. "No," he replied, 
" there is no woman in this world for me, but I expect 
there is one in heaven." 

After an absence of many months, he again returned 
to the neighborhood of Wheeling; but whether he 
avenged his real or imaginary wrongs, upon the person 
of the Spaniard alluded to, is not known. His propensity 
to roam the woods was still as great as ever; and an 
incident occurred which showed that he had lost none 
of his cunning while undergoing incarceration at New 
Orleans. Returning homeward, from a hunt north of 
the Ohio, somewhat fatigued and a little careless of his 
movements, he suddenly espied an Indian, in the very 
act of raising his gun to fire. Both immediately sprang 
to trees, and there they stood for an hour, each afraid 
of the other. What was to be done ? To remain there 
during the whole day, for it was then early in the morn- 
ing, was out of the question. Now it was that the 
sagacity of Wetzel displayed itself over the child-like 
simplicity of the savage. Cautiously adjusting his 
bear-skin cap to the end of his ramrod — with the 
slightest, most dubious and hesitating motion, as though 
afraid to venture a glance, the cap protruded. An in- 
stant, a crack, and off was torn the fatal cap, by the 
sure ball of the vigilant savage. Leaping from his 
retreat, our hero rapidly advanced upon the astonished 
Indian, and ere the tomahawk could be brought to its 
work of death, the tawny foe sprang convulsively into 
the air, and, straightening as he descended, fell upon 
his face quite dead. 

Wetzel was universally regarded as one of the most 
efficient scouts and most practiced woodsmen of his day. 
He was frequently engaged by parties who desired to 



JOHN VSETZEL. 355 

hunt up and locate lauds, but were afraid of the Indians. 
Under the protection of Lewis Wetzel, however, they 
felt safe, and thus he was often engaged for months at 
a time. Of those who became largely interested in 
western lands, was John Madison, brother of James, 
afterward President Madison. He employed Lewis 
Wetzel to go with him through the Kenawha region. 
During their expedition they came upon a deserted 
hunter's camp, in which were concealed some goods. 
Each of them helped himself to a blanket, and that 
day, in crossing Little Kenawha, they were fired upon 
by a concealed party of Indians, and Madison killed. 
General Clark, the companion of Lewis in the cel- 
ebrated tour across the Rocky Mountains, had heard 
much of Lewis Wetzel in Kentucky, and determined 
to secure his services in the perilous enterprise. A 
messenger was accordingly sent for him, but he was 
reluctant to go. However, he finally consented, and 
accompanied the party during the first three months' 
travel, but then declined going any farther, and returned 
home. Shortly after this he left again, on a flat-boat, 
and never returned. He visited a relative named 
Philip Sikes, living about twenty miles in the interior 
from Natchez, and there made his home until the sum- 
mer of 1808, when he died. The late venerable David 
Mclntyre, of Belmont County, Ohio, one of the most 
reliable and respectable men in the State, said that he 
met Lewis Wetzel at Natchez, in April, 1808, and re- 
mained with him three days. That Lewis told him he 
would visit his friends during the then approaching 
summer. But alas, that visit was never made! His 
journey was to " that undiscovered country, from 
whose bourne no traveler returns." 



JOHN WETZEL.* 

In the year 1791 or '92, the Indians having made 
frequent incursions into the settlements, along the river 
.Ohio, between Wheeling and the Mingo Bottom — 

*The three succeeding sketches are from Pritts' Border Life. 



356 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

sometimes killing- and capturing whole families, at other 
times stealing all the horses belonging, to a station or 
fort — a company, consisting of seven men, rendezvoused 
at a place called the Beech Bottom, on the Ohio River, 
a few miles below where Wellsburg has been erected. 
This company were John Wetzel, William McCullough, 
John Hough, Thomas Biggs, Joseph Hedges, Kinzie 
Dickerson, and a Mr. Linn. Their avowed object was, 
to go to the Indian town to steal horses. This was then 
considered a legal, honorable business, as we were then 
at open war with the Indians. It would only be retali- 
ating upon them in their own way. These seven men 
were all trained to Indian warfare and a life in the 
woods, from their youth. Perhaps the western frontier 
at no time could furnish seven men whose souls were 
better fitted, and whose nerves and sinews were better 
strung, to perform any enterprise which required resolu- 
tion and firmness. They crossed the Ohio, and proceeded, 
with cautious steps and vigilant glances, on their way 
through the cheerless, dark, and almost impenetrable 
forest, in the Indian country, till they came to an In- 
dian town, near where the head- waters of the Sandusky 
and Muskingum rivers interlock. Here they made a 
fine haul, and set off homeward with about fifteen horses. 
They traveled rapidly, only making a short halt, to let 
their horses graze and breathe a short time, to recruit 
their strength and activity. In the evening of the second 
day of their rapid retreat, they arrived at Wells Creek, 
not far from where the town of Cambridge has been 
since erected. Here Mr. Linn was taken violently sick, 
and they must stop their march, or leave him alone to 
perish in the dark and lonely woods. Our frontier men, 
notwithstanding their rough and unpolished manners, 
had too much of my Uncle Toby's "sympathy for 
suffering humanity," to forsake a comrade in distress. 
They halted and placed sentinels on their back-trail, 
who remained there till late in the night without seeing 
any signs of being pursued. The sentinels on the back- 
trail returned to the camp ; Mr. Linn still lying in 
excruciating pain. All the simple remedies in their 
power were administered to the sick man. without pro- 



JOHN VSETZEL. 357 

ducing any effect. Being late in the night, they all lay 
down to rest, except one who was placed as guard. 
Their camp was on the bank of a small branch. Just 
before daybreak the guard took a small bucket and 
dipped some water out of the stream ; on carrying it to 
the fire, he discovered the water to be muddy. The 
muddy water awaked his suspicion that the enemy 
might be approaching them, and were walking down in 
the stream, as their footsteps would be noiseless in the 
water. He waked his companions, and communicated 
his suspicion. They arose, examined the branch a little 
distance, and listened attentively for some time, but 
neither saw nor heard any thing, and then concluded it 
must have been raccoons or some other animals pud- 
dling in the stream. After this conclusion, the com- 
pany all lay down to rest, except, the sentinel, who was 
stationed just outside of the light. Happily for them 
the fire had burned down, and only a few coals afforded 
a dim light to point out where they lay. The enemy 
had come silently down the creek, as the sentinel sus- 
pected, to within ten or twelve feet of the place where 
they lay, and fired several guns over the bank. Mr. 
Linn, the sick man, was lying with his side toward the 
bank, and received nearly all the balls which were at 
first fired. The Indians then, with tremendous yells, 
mounted the bank with loaded rifles, war-clubs, and 
tomahawks, rushed upon our men, who fled barefooted 
and without arms. Mr. Linn, Thomas Biggs, and 
Joseph Hedges were killed in and near the camp. 
William McCullough had run but a short distance 
when he was fired at by the enemy. At the instant 
the filing was given, he jumped into a quagmire and 
feil ; the Indians, supposing that they had killed him, 
ran past in pursuit of others. He soon extricated him- 
self out of the mire, and so made his escape. He fell 
in with John Hough, and came into Wheeling. John 
Wetzel and Kinzie Dickerson met in their retreat, and 
returned together. Those who made their escape were 
without arms, without clothing, or provisions. Their 
sufferings were great; but this they bore with stoical 
indifference, as it was the fortune of war. Whether the 



358 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

Indians who defeated our heroes followed in pursuit 
from their towns, or were a party of warriors who ac- 
cidentally happened to fall in with them, has never 
been ascertained. From the place they had stolen the 
horses, they had traveled two nights and almost two 
entire days without halting, except, just a few minutes 
at a time, to let the horses graze. From the circum- 
stance of their rapid retreat with the horses, it was 
supposed that no pursuit could possibly have overtaken 
them, but that fate had decreed that this party of In- 
dians should meet and defeat them. As soon as the 
stragglers arrived at Wheeling, Captain John M'Cul- 
lough collected a party of men, and went to Wells 
Creek, and buried the unfortunate men who fell in and 
near the camp. The Indians had mangled the dead 
bodies at a most barbarous rate. Thus w r as closed the 
horse-stealing tragedy. 

Of the four who survived this tragedy, none are now 
living to tell the story of their suffering. They con- 
tinued to hunt and to fight as long as the war lasted. 
John Wetzel and Dickerson died in the country near 
Wheeling. John Hough died about 1842, near Colum- 
bia, Hamilton County, Ohio. The brave Captain 
William M'Cullough fell in 1812, in the battle of 
Brownstown, in the campaign with General Hull. 

JOHN WETZEL AND VEACH DICKERSON. 

John Wetzel and Veach Dickerson associated to 
go on an Indian scout. They crossed the Ohio at the 
Mingo Bottom, three miles below where the town of 
Steubenville has since been constructed. They set off 
with the avowed intention of bringing an Indian pris- 
oner. They painted and dressed in complete Indian 
style, and could talk some in their language. What 
induced them to undertake this hazardous enterprise, 
is unknown; perhaps the novelty and danger of the 
undertaking prompted them. No reward was given for 
either prisoners or scalps; nor were they employed or 
paid by the government. Every man fought on his 
own hook, furnished his own arms and ammunition, and 



JOHN WETZEL & VEACH DICKERSON. 359 

carried his own baggage. This was, to all intents, a 
democratic war, as every one fought as often and as 
long as he pleased; either by himself, or with such com- 
pany as he could confide in. As the white men on the 
frontier took but few prisoners, Wetzel and Dickerson 
concluded to change the practice, and bring in an In- 
dian to make a pet. Whatever whim may have induced 
them, they set off with the avowed intention of bringing 
in a prisoner, or losing their own scalps in the attempt. 
They pushed through the Indian country with silent 
treads, and a keen lookout, till they went near the head 
of the Sandusky River, where they came near to a small 
Indian village. They concealed themselves near to a 
path which appeared to be- considerably traveled. In 
the course of the first day of their ambush, they saw 
several small companies of Indians pass them. As it 
was not their wish to raise an alarm among the enemy, 
they permitted them to pass undisturbed. In the even- 
ing of the next day, they saw two Indians coming saun- 
tering along the road, in quite a merry mood. They 
immediately stepped into the road, and, with a confident 
air, as if they were meeting friends, went forward until 
they came within reach of the enemy. Wetzel drew 
his tomahawk, and, with one sweep, knocked an Indian 
down; at the same instant, Dickerson grasped the other 
in his arms, and threw him on the ground. By this 
time Wetzel had killed the other, and turned his hand 
to aid in fastening the prisoner. This completed, they 
scalped the dead Indian, and set off with the prisoner 
for home. They traveled, all that night, on the war- 
path leading toward Wheeling. In the morning they 
struck off from the beaten path, taking diverse courses, 
and keeping on the hardest ground, where their feet 
would make the least impression, as this would render 
their trail more difficult to follow in case they should 
be pursued. They pushed along till they had crossed 
the Muskingum some distance, when their prisoner be- 
gan to show a restive, stubborn disposition; he finally 
threw himself on the ground and refused to rise. He 
held down his head, and told them they might toma- 
hawk him as soon as they pleased, for he was deter- 
32 



3 60 WESTERN AD VENT UBE. 

mined to go no farther. They used every argument 
they could think of, to induce him to proceed, but with- 
out any effect. He said "he would prefer dying in his 
native woods, than to preserve his life a little longer, 
and, at last, be tortured by fire, and his body mangled 
for sport, when they took him to their towns." They 
assured him his life would be spared, and that he would 
be well used, and treated with plenty. But all their 
efforts would not induce him to rise to his feet. The 
idea that he would be put to death for sport, or in re- 
venge, in presence of a large number of spectators, who 
would enjoy, with raptures, the scenes of his torture and 
death, had taken such a strong hold of his mind, that 
he determined to disappoint the possibility of their be- 
ing gratified at his expense. As it was not their wish to 
Jkill him, from coaxing, they concluded to try if a 
hickory, well applied, would not bend his stubborn soul. 
This, too, failed to have any effect. He appeared to be 
as callous and indifferent to the lash as if he had been 
a cooper's horse. What invincible resolution and forti- 
tude was evinced by this son of the forest! Finding 
all their efforts to urge him forward ineffectual, they 
determined to put him to death. They then toma- 
hawked and scalped him, and left his body a prey to the 
wild beasts of the forest, and to the birds of the air. 
Our heroes then returned home with their two scalps; 
but vexed and disappointed that they could not bring 
with them the prisoner. 

JACOB WETZEL AND SIMON KENTON. 

The following relation I had from General Kenton : 
Kenton and Wetzel made arrangements to make a fall 
hunt together; and for that purpose they went into the 
hilly country, near the mouth of the Kentucky River. 
When they arrived in that part of the country in which 
they intended to make their hunt, they discovered some 
signs of Indians having pre-occupied the ground. It 
would have been out of character in a Kenton and a 
Wetzel to retreat, without first ascertaining the descrip- 
tion and number of the enemy. They determined to 



JACOB WETZEL AND SIMON KENTON. 361 

.find the Indian camp, which they believed was at no 
great distance from them, as they had heard reports of 
guns late in the evening, and early the next morning, 
in the same direction. This convinced them that the 
camp was at no great distance from the firing. Our 
heroes moved cautiously about, making as little sign as 
possible, that they might not be discovered by the enemy. 
Toward evening of the second day after they arrived 
on the ground, they discovered the Indian camp. They 
kept themselves concealed, determined, as soon as night 
approached, to reconnoiter the situation and number of 
the enemy; and then govern their future operations 
as prudence might dictate. They found five Indians in 
the camp. Having confidence in themselves, and in 
their usual good fortune, they concluded to attack them 
boldly. Contrary to military rules, they agreed to defer 
the attack till light. In military affairs it is a general 
rule to avoid night fights, except where small numbers 
intend to assault a larger force. The night is then 
chosen, as the darkness, the numbers of the assailants 
being uncertain, may produce panics and confusion, 
which may give the victory to far inferior numbers. 
Our heroes chose daylight and an open field for the 
fight. There was a large fallen tree lying near the 
camp ; this would serve as a rampart for defense, and 
would also serve to conceal them from observation till 
the battle commenced. They took their station behind 
the log, and there lay till broad daylight, when they 
were able to draw a clear bead. Jacob Wetzel had a 
double-barreled rifle. Their guns were cocked — they 
took aim, and gave the preconcerted signal — fired, and 
two Indians fell. As quick as thought, Wetzel fired 
his second load, and down fell the third Indian. Their 
number Avas equal, and they bounded over the log, 
screaming and yelling at the highest pitch of their 
voices, to strike terror into their remaining enemies; 
and were among them before they recovered from the 
sudden surprise. The two remaining Indians, without 
arms, took to their heels, and ran in different directions. 
Kenton pursued one, whom he soon overhauled, toma- 
hawked and scalped, and then returned, with the bloody 



362 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

trophy, to the camp. Shortly after, Wetzel returned 
with the scalp of the fifth Indian. This was a whole- 
sale slaughter that but few, except such men as a Ken- 
ton and a Wetzel, would have attempted. 



MAJOK SAMUEL McCOLLOCH.* 

FIRST SIEGE OF WHEELING. 

Among the earliest settlers on Short Creek, not far 
from Wheeling, Virginia, was the McColloch family, 
composed of three brothers, Abraham, Samuel, and 
John, and two sisters — the latter as lovely, devoted, 
and gentle as the brothers were bold, brave, and gen- 
erous. No men were more respected by their neighbors, 
or more dreaded by the Indians. At an early age, 
Samuel, the second son, distinguished himself as a 
bold and efficient borderer. As an " Indian hunter," 
he had few superiors. He seemed to track the wily 
red man with a sagacity as remarkable as his efforts 
were successful. He was almost constantly engaged 
in excursions against the enemy, or " scouting" for the 
security of the settlements. It was mainly to these 
energetic operations that the frontier was so often 
saved from savage depredation; and by cutting off 
their retreat, attacking their hunting camps, and an- 
noying them in various other ways, he rendered himself 
so great an object of fear and hatred. For these they 
marked him, and vowed sleepless vengeance against the 
n ame. In consideration of his very many efficient services, 
Samuel McColloch was commissioned major, in 1775. 

In the month of August, 1777, information was re- 
ceived, from some friendly Moravian Indians, that a large 
army of Indians — composed chiefly of warriors from the 
great North-western Confederacy — were making vigor- 
ous preparations to strike an effective and terrible blow 
upon some of the settlements on the upper Ohio. It 

* Arranged from DeHass' History of Western Virginia. 



MAJOR SAMUEL McCOLLOCH. 363 

was stated, too, that this chosen body of savages would 
be under the lead of Simon Girty, a renegade white 
man of most relentless and insatiable ferocity toward 
his renounced countrymen. It soon became manifest 
at what point the enemy designed to strike. With 
apprehensions of dread, the settlers at the mouth of 
"Wheeling (numbering about thirty families) betook 
themselves to their fort, and with calm resolution 
awaited the issue. 

Early in the evening of the thirty-first of August, 
Captain Joseph Ogle, who had been sent out some days 
before, at the head of ten or fifteen men, to scout along 
the different routes usually followed by the Indians, re- 
turned to Wheeling, and reported no immediate cause 
of danger. The Indians, with their accustomed sagacity, 
suspecting that their movements might be watched, 
abandoned all the paths usually trodden, and dividing, 
as they approached the river, into small distinct parties, 
struck out along new lines for the Ohio. Without dis- 
covery, they reached the vicinity of Boggs' Island (two 
miles below Wheeling Creek), and there consolidating 
their force, crossed the river and proceeded directly to 
the creek bottom, under cover of night, and completed 
their plans for movement in the morning. The Indian 
army consisted of over three hundred and fifty Mingoes, 
Shawnees, and Wyandotts. It was commanded by the 
notorious renegade, Simon Girty, and w 7 ell furnished 
with arms, ammunition, etc., by the infamous Hamilton, 
governor of Canada. Girty disposed of his men in two 
lines across the bottom, which, at that time, was cleared 
and mostly in corn, and stretched from the river to the 
creek. They w T ere arranged at convenient distances, 
and effectually concealed by the high weeds and corn. 

Posted near the center of these lines, and close to 
a path leading from the fort (which they supposed some 
of the whites would pass along in the morning), were 
six Indians. Shortly after daybreak of the first of 
September, Dr. McMechen, who was about returning 
east of the mountains, sent out a white man named 
Boyd, and a negro, to catch the horses. The two men 
had not proceeded far before they discovered the six In- 



364 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

dians. Hoping to escape, they niade^a hurried retreat, 
but Boyd was killed. The negro was permitted to re- 
turn, doubtless to mislead the whites as to the actual 
number of the foe. 

The commandant immediately ordered Captain Samuel 
Mason, who had brought his company to the fort on 
the previous evening, to go out and dislodge the enemy. 
With fourteen of his men, the gallant captain sallied 
forth, and, after proceeding partly across the bottom, 
discovered the six Indians and fired upon them. Al- 
most simultaneously with this discharge, the entire 
Indian army arose, and, with horrid yells, rushed upon 
the little band of whites. Finding that to stand were 
madness, Mason ordered a retreat, and in person com- 
menced cutting his way through the Indian line. This 
he succeeded in doing, but most of his gallant little 
party perished in the attempt. Out of the fourteen but 
two escaped, and they, like Captain Mason, eluded the 
pursuing savages by concealing themselves beneath 
brush and fallen timber. The names of those who 
escaped this general slaughter, were Hugh McConnell 
and Thomas Glenn. William Shepherd, son of Colonel 
David Shepherd, had gained the spring, near where 
the Wheeling market-house now stands, when one of 
his feet caught in a vine, and, falling, the pursuing 
savage was instantly upon him, and, with a war-club, 
dispatched him on the spot. A dense fog concealed this 
from the sight of those in the fort. 

So soon as the disaster to Mason had been ascertained 
at the fort, Captain Joseph Ogle, with his dozen ex- 
perienced scouts, advanced to his relief, but not with- 
out forebodings of imminent danger, as the yells of 
the savages, and shrieks of the whites, told too plainly 
that a terrible massacre was taking place. With fear- 
less steps Captain Ogle moved on to the scene of con- 
flict, determined to cover the retreat of his unfortunate 
countrymen, or perish in the attempt. An excited and 
bloody foe rushed upon them, with the fury of demons, 
and all but two or three shared the fate of the first de- 
tachment. Captain Ogle, Sergeant Jacob Ogle, Martin 
Wetzel, and perhaps one other, were all w 7 ho escaped. 



MAJOR SAMUEL McCOLLOCH. 365 

The loss of so many brave men, at such a time, was 
a sad blow to this part of the country. Those who fell 
were the pride of that little fortress. They were heroes 
in every sense of the word; men of iron nerve, indom- 
itable courage, and devoted patriotism. The valor of 
either would have done honor to the victors of Mara- 
thon. Scarcely had the shrieks of the wounded and 
dying been quieted, than the army of savages, with 
reeking scalps, just torn from the heads of the ill-fated 
soldiery, presented themselves in front of the fort, and 
demanded a surrender. The appearance of the enemy, 
as they approached, was most formidable. They ad- 
vanced in two separate columns, with drum, fife, and 
British colors. The morning was calm, warm, and 
bright; and the sun, just rising over the high hill which 
overlooked the fort, was gently dissipating the heavy 
fog which covered the bloody scene on the bottom. 

As the Indians advanced, a few scattering shots were 
fired at them from the fort, without much execution. 
Girty, having brought up his forces, proceeded to dis- 
pose of them as follows: The right flank was brought 
around the base of the hill, and distributed among the 
several cabins convenient to the fort; the left was 
ordered to defile beneath the river bank, close under 
the fort. Thus disposed, Girty presented himself at 
the window of a cabin, holding forth a white flag, and 
offering conditions of peace. He read the proclama- 
tion of Hamilton, governor of Canada, and, in a sten- 
torian voice, demanded the surrender of the fort, 
offering, in case they complied, protection ; but if they 
refused, immediate and indiscriminate massacre. He 
referred, in a very boasting manner, to the great force 
at his command; and called upon them, as loyal sub- 
jects, to give up, in obedience to the demand of the 
king's agent, and that not one of them should be injured. 

Although the whole number of men then in the fort, 
did not exceed ten or a dozen, still there was no dis- 
position to yield; but, on the contrary, a fixed deter- 
mination to defy the renegade, and all the power of 
King George. 

Girty having finished his harangue, Colonel David 



366 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

Shepherd, the commandant, promptly, and in the most 
gallant and eff ctive manner, replied, "Sir, we have 
consulted our wives and children, and all have resolved 
— men, women, and children — sooner to perish at their 
posts than place themselves under the protection of a 
savage army, with you at the head; or abjure the cause 
of liberty and the colonies." The outlaw attempted to 
reply, but a shot from the fort put a stop to any 
further harangue. 

A darker hour had scarcely ever obscured the hopes 
of the West. Death was all around that little fortress, 
and hopeless despair seemed to press upon its inmates; 
but still they could not and would not give up. Duty, 
patriotism, pride, independence, safety, all required 
they should not surrender and forswear the cause of 
freedom. 

Unable to intimidate them, and finding the besieged 
proof against his vile promises, the chagrined and dis- 
comfited Girty disappeared from the cabin, but in a 
few minutes was seen approaching with a large body 
of Indians, and instantly a tremendous rush was made 
upon the fort. They attempted to force the gates, and 
test the strength of the pickets by muscular effort. 
Failing to make any impression, Girty drew off his men 
a few yards, and commenced a general fire upon the 
port-holes. 

Thus continued the attack during most of the day, 
and part of the night, but without any sensible effect. 
About noon, a temporary withdrawal of the enemy took 
place. During the cessation, active preparations were 
carried on within the fort, to resist a further attack. 
Each person was assigned some particular duty. Of 
the women, some were required to run bullets, while 
others were to cool the guns, load and hand them to 
the men, etc. Some of them, indeed, insisted upon 
doing duty by the side of the men, and two actually 
took their position at the port-holes, dealing death to 
many a dusky warrior. 

About three o'clock, the Indians returned to the at- 
tack with redoubled fury. They distributed themselves 
among the cabins, behind fallen trees, etc. The num- 



MAJOR SAMUEL McCOLLOCH. 367 

ber thus disposed of, amounted to perhaps one-half the 
actual force of the enemy. The remainder advanced 
along the base of the hill south of the fort, and com- 
menced a vigorous fire upon that part of the stockade. 
This was a cunningly devised scheme, as it drew most 
of the inmates to that quarter. Immediately a rush 
was made from the cabins, led on by Girty in person, 
and a most determined effort made to force the entrance. 
The attempt was made with heavy timber, but failed, 
with the loss of many of their boldest warriors. 

Several similar attempts were made during the after- 
noon, but all alike failed. Maddened and chagrined by 
repeated disappointment and ill-success, the savages 
withdrew to their covert until night-fall. Day at 
length closed ; darkness deepened over the waters, and 
almost the stillness of death reigned around. About 
nine o'clock, the savages re-appeared, making night 
hideous with their yells, and the heavens lurid with 
their discharge of musketry. The lights in the fort 
having- been extinguished, the inmates had the advan- 
tage of those without, and many a stalwart savage fell 
before the steady aim of experienced frontiermen. Ee- 
peated attempts were made, during the night, to storm 
the fort, and to fire it, but all failed, through the 
vigilance and activity of those within. 

At length that night of horror passed, and the 
second of September dawned upon the scene, only to 
bring a renewal of the attack. This, however, did not 
last long, and despairing of success, the savages pre- 
pared to leave. They fired most of the buildings, killed 
the cattle, and w^ere about departing, when a relief 
party of fourteen men, under Colonel Andrew Swear- 
ingen, from Holliday's Fort, twenty-four miles above, 
landed in a pirogue, and, undiscovered by the Indians, 
gained entrance to the fort. Shortly afterward, Major 
Samuel McColloch, at the head of forty mounted men 
from Short Creek, made their appearance in front of 
the fort, the gates of which were joyfully thrown open. 
Simultaneously with the appearance of McColloch's 
men re-appeared the enemy, and a rush was made, to 
cut off the entrance of some of the party. All, how- 



3 68 WESTERN A D VENT URE. 

ever, succeeded in getting in except the gallant major, 
who, anxious for the safety of his men, held back un- 
til his own chance was entirely cut off. Finding him- 
self surrounded by savages, he rode, at full speed, in the 
direction of the lofty hill, which overhangs the present 
city of Wheeling. The enemy, with exulting yells, 
followed close in pursuit, not doubting they would cap- 
ture one whom of all other men they preferred to 
wreak their vengeance upon. Knowing their relentless 
hostility toward himself, he strained every muscle of 
his noble steed to gain the summit, and then escape 
along the brow in direction of Van Metre's Fort. At 
length he attained the top, and galloping ahead of his 
pursuers, rejoiced at his lucky escape. As he gained 
a point on the hill, near where the Cumberland Koad 
now crosses, what should he suddenly encounter but a 
considerable body of Indians, who were just returning 
from a plundering excursion among the settlements. 

In an instant, he comprehended the full extent of 
his danger. Escape seemed out of the question, either 
in the direction of Short Creek or back to the bottom. 
A fierce and revengeful foe completely hemmed him in, 
cutting off every chance of successful retreat or escape. 
What was to be done? Fall into their hands, and 
share the most refined torture savage ingenuity could 
invent ? That thought was agony ; and, in an instant, 
the bold soldier — preferring death among the rocks and 
brambles, to the knife and faggot of the savage — de- 
termined to plunge over the precipice before him.* 
Without a moment's hesitation, for the savages were 
pressing upon him, he firmly adjusted himself in his 
saddle, grasped securely the bridle with his left hand, 
and supporting his rifle in the right, pushed his un- 
faltering old horse over. A plunge, a crash — crackling 
timber and tumbling rocks were all that the wondering 
savages could see or hear. They looked chagrined, but 
bewildered, one at another ; and while they inwardly 

*The hill, at this point, is full three hundred feet in height, 
and, at that time, was in many places perpendicular. Since 
then the construction of the road has somewhat changed its 
features. The exact spot where the rider Avent over, is close 
to a smaU house standing near where the road crosses. 




Fearful Leap of Major Samuel McColloch. [See page 368.] 



MAJOR SAMUEL McCOLLOCH. 369 

regretted that the fire had been spared its duty, they 
could not but greatly rejoice that their most inveterate 
enemy was at length beyond the power of doing further 
injury. But, lo! ere a single savage had recovered 
from his amazement, what should they see but the in- 
vulnerable major, on his white steed, galloping across 
the peninsula. Such was the feat of Major McColloch, 
certainly one of the most daring and successful ever 
attempted. The place has become memorable as 
McCoJloch's Leap, and will remain so long as the hill 
stands, and the recollections of the past have a place 
in the hearts of the people. Our engraver has given 
a very effective and correct representation of this 
" leap." 

It is a matter of great regret that more of the stir- 
ring incidents in this man's life have not been collected 
and preserved. Toward the latter end of July, 1782, 
indications of Indians having been noticed by some of 
the settlers, Major McColloch and his brother John 
mounted their horses, and left Van Metre's Fort, to 
ascertain the correctness of the report. They crossed 
Short Creek, and continued in the direction of Wheel- 
ing, but inclining toward the river. They scouted 
closely but cautiously, and not discovering any such 
" signs" as had been stated, descended to the bottom, 
at a point about two miles above Wheeling. They then 
passed up the river to the mouth of Short Creek, and 
thence up Girfy's Point, in the direction of Van 
Metre's. Not discovering any indications of the enemy, 
the brothers were riding leisurely along (July 30, 
1782), and when a short distance beyond the "point," 
a deadly discharge of rifles took place, killing Major 
McColloch instantly. His brother escaped, but his 
horse was killed. Immediately mounting that of his 
brother, he made off to give the alarm. As yet no 
enemy had been seen ; but turning in his saddle, after 
riding fifty yards, the path w T as filled with Indians, 
and one fellow in the act of scalping the unfortunate 
major. Quick as thought the rifle of John was at his 
shoulder, and, in an instant more, the savage was roll- 
ing in the agonies of death. John McColloch escaped 



370 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

to the fort unhurt, with the exception of a slight wound 
on his hip. 

On the following day a party of men, from Van 
Metre's, went out and gathered up the mutilated re- 
mains of Major McColloch. The savages had disem^ 
boweled him, but the viscera all remained, except the 
heart. Some years subsequent to this melancholy affair, 
an Indian, who had been one of the party on this occa- 
sion, told some whites that the heart of Major McCol- 
loch had been divided and eaten by the party. This was 
done, said he, that "we be bold, like Major McCol- 
loch." On another occasion, an Indian, in speaking of 
the incident, said, "The white (meaning John McCol- 
loch) had killed a great captain, but they (the Indians) 
had killed a greater one." 



REMARKABLE ESCAPE. 

One of the most remarkable escapes upon record, is 
that of Thomas Mills. The circumstances w T ere these: 
On the thirtieth day of July, 1783, Mills and two other 
men, Henry Smith and Hambleton Kerr, started on a 
fishing excursion, up the river, from Wheeling. When 
near Glenn's Run, a party of Indians, Avho had watched 
the movements of the whites, fired upon them, killing 
Smith, and wounding Mills in fourteen places. He had 
that many distinct bullet-holes in him, and yet not one 
of them was mortal. Kerr escaped. Just before the 
attack, Mills and his companions had caught an enor- 
mous catfish (weighing 87 pounds); and when the men 
were taken from the canoe, at Wheeling, their appear- 
ance was truly frightful — they were literally covered 
with blood and sand. Mills recovered from his wounds, 
and, as late as 1850, was living on the Ohio, near Shade 
River. He was, in his time, a most useful man on the 
frontier, possessing great experience as a hunter and 
scout. 

Kerr was one of the most efficient spies west of the 



CAPTIVITY OF TWO BOYS. 371 

Ohio River. His father was killed near the mouth of 
Duck Creek, in the summer of 1791. Two of his neigh- 
bors who were passing down the river in a canoe, on 
the Virginia side of the island, hearing the report of 
a gun, landed and passed over the island, where they 
saw two Indians going from the canoe in which Kerr 
lay, with the struggles of death still upon him. This 
murder of his father greatly exasperated Hambleton, 
and, thenceforward, no Indian was safe who crossed his 
path, whether in time of war or peace. He settled at 
the mouth of a small stream, now known as Kerr's 
Run, at the upper end of the flourishing town of 
Pomeroy, Ohio. 



CAPTIVITY OF TWO BOYS. 

In the spring of 1785, the Indians early re-appeared 
in the neighborhood of Wheeling. One of their first 
acts, on Wheeling Creek, was the captivity of two boys, 
John Wetzel, jr., and Frederick ErleAvyne, the former 
about sixteen years of age, and the latter a year or two 
younger. The boys had gone from the fort, at Shep- 
herd's, for the purpose of catching horses. One of the 
stray animals was a mare, with a young colt, belonging 
to Wetzel's sister, and she had offered the foal to John, 
as a reward for finding the mare. While on this service, 
they were captured by a party of four Indians, who 
having come across the horses, had seized and secured 
them in a thicket, expecting the bells would attract 
the notice of their owners, so they could kill them. 
The horse was ever a favorite object of plunder with 
the savages; as not only facilitating his own escape 
from pursuit, but also assisting him iu carrying off the 
spoil. The boys, hearing the well-known tinkle of the 
hells, approached the spot where the Indians lay con- 
cealed, congratulating themselves on their good luck in 
so readily finding the strays, when they were imme- 
diately seized by the savages. John, in attempting to 



372 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

escape, was shot through the wrist. His companion 
hesitating to go with the Indians, and beginning to cry, 
they dispatched him with the tomahawk. John, who 
had once before been taken prisoner, and escaped, 
made light of it, and went along cheerfully with his 
wounded arm. 

The party struck the Ohio River early the following 
morning, at a point near the mouth of Grave Creek, 
and just below the clearing of Mr. Tomlinson, who 
with his family was at that time in the fort at Wheel- 
ing. Here they found some hogs, and killing one of 
them, put it into a canoe they had stolen. Three of 
the Indians took possession of the canoe, with their 
prisoner, while the other was busied in swimming the 
horses across the river. It so happened that Isaac 
"Williams, Hambleton Kerr, and Jacob, a Dutchman, 
had come down that morning from Wheeling, to look 
after the cattle, etc., left at the deserted settlement. 
When near the mouth of Little Grave Creek, a mile 
above, they heard the report of a rifle. " Dod rot 'em," 
exclaimed Mr. Williams, "a Kentuck' boat has landed 
at the creek, and they are shooting my hogs." Quick- 
ening their pace, in a few minutes they were within a 
short distance of the creek, when they heard the loud 
snort of a horse. Kerr, being in the prime of life, and 
younger than Mr. Williams, was several rods ahead, 
and reached the bank first. As he looked into the 
creek, he saw three Indians standing in a canoe; one 
was in the stern, one in the bow, and the other in the 
middle. At the feet of the latter lay four rifles and 
a dead hog ; while a fourth Indian was swimming a 
horse, a few rods from shore. The one in the stern 
had his paddle in the edge of the water, in the act of 
turning and shoving the canoe from the mouth of the 
creek into the river. Before they were aware of his 
presence, Kerr drew up and shot the Indian in the 
stern, who instantly fell into the water. The crack of 
his rifle had scarcely ceased, when Mr. Williams came 
up and shot the one in the bow, who also fell overboard. 
Kerr dropped his own rifle, and seizing that of the 
Dutchman, shot the remaining Indian. He fell over 






CAPTIVITY OF TWO BOYS. 373 

into the water, but still held on to the side of the canoe 
with one hand. So amazed was the last Indian at the 
fall of his companions, that he never offered to lift one 
of the rifles, which lay at his feet, in self-defense, but 
acted like one bereft of his senses. 

By this time the canoe, impelled by the impetus 
given to it by the first Indian, had reached the current 
of the river, and was some rods below the mouth of the 
creek. Kerr instantly reloaded his gun, and seeing an- 
other man lying in the bottom of the canoe, raised it 
to his face as in the act of firing, when he cried out, 
" Don't shoot, I am a white man ! " Kerr told him to 
knock loose the Indian's hand from the side of the 
canoe, and paddle to the shore. In reply he said his 
arm w 7 as broken, and he could not. The current, how- 
ever, set it near some rocks not far from land, on 
which he jumped and waded out. Kerr now aimed his 
rifle at the Indian on horse-back, who, by this time, 
had reached the middle of the river. The shot struck 
near him, splashing the water on his naked skin. The 
Indian, seeing the fate of his companions, with the 
utmost bravery slipped from the horse, and swam for 
the canoe in which were the rifles of the four warriors. 
This was an act of necessity as well as of daring, for he 
well knew he could not reach home without the means 
of killing game. He soon gained possession of the 
canoe, unmolested crossed with the arms to his own side 
of the Ohio, mounted the captive horse, which had 
swam to the Indian shore, and, with a yell of defiance, 
escaped into the w 7 oods. The canoe was turned adrift, 
to spite his enemies, and was taken up near Maysville, 
Kentucky, with the dead hog still in it — the cause of 
all their misfortunes. 



374 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 



THE TWO JOHNSON BOYS. 

ANOTHER BRAVE BOY. 

Since giving, on page 286, the remarkable story of 
the two Johnson boys, we have met with a detailed 
statement of the whole transaction, by Henry Johnson, 
the younger brother, who was still living, in 1851, in 
Monroe County, Ohio. # We copy from DeHass' History 
of Western Virginia, page 300: 

Antioch, Monroe County, Ohio, \ 

January 18, 1851. J • 

Dear Sir: — Yours of the eighth instant has just 
come to hand, and I, with pleasure, sit down to answer 
your request, which is a statement of my adventure 
with the Indians. I will give the narrative as found 
in my sketch book. 

I was born in Westmoreland County, Pennsylvania, 
February 4th, 1777. When about eight years old, my 
father, James Johnson, having a large family to provide 
for, sold his farm, w 7 ith the expectation of acquiring 
larger possessions farther west. Thus he was stimulated 
to encounter the perils of a pioneer life. He crossed 
the Ohio Kiver, and bought some improvements on 
what was called Beach Bottom Flats, two and a half 
miles from the river, and three or four miles above the 
mouth of Short Creek, with the expectation of holding, 
by improvement-right, under the Virginia claim. Soon 
after we reached there, the Indians became troublesome; 
they stole horses, and killed a number of persons in our 
neighborhood. When I was between eleven and twelve 
years old, in the month of October, 1788, I was taken 
prisoner by the Indians, with my brother John, who 
was about eighteen months older than I. The circum- 
stances were as follows : 

On Saturday evening we were out with an older 
brother, and came home late in the evening. The next 
morning one of us had lost a hat, and, about the middle 
of the day, we thought that perhaps he had left it where 



THE TWO JOHNSON BOYS. 375 

we had been at work, about three-fourths of a mile from 
the house. We went to the place and found the hat, 
and sat down on a log by the road-side, and commenced 
cracking nuts. In a short time we saw two men com- 
ing toward us from the house. By their dress, we 
supposed they were two of our neighbors, James Per- 
due and J. Kussell. We paid but little attention to 
them, until they came quite near us, when we saw our 
mistake — they were black. To escape by flight was 
impossible, had we been disposed to try. We sat still 
until they came up. One of them said, " How do, 
brodder?" My brother asked them if they were In- 
dians, and they answered in the affirmative, and said 
we must go with them. One of them had a blue buck- 
skin pouch, which he gave my brother to carry, and, 
without farther ceremony, we took up the line of march 
for the wilderness, not knowing whether we should ever 
return to our cheerful home; and, not having much 
love for our commanding officers, of course we obeyed 
orders very tardily, The mode of march was thus, 
one of the Indians walked about ten steps before, the 
other about ten behind us. 

After traveling some distance, we halted in a deep 
hollow, and sat down. They took out their knives and 
whet them, and talked some lime in the Indian tongue, 
which we could not understand. My brother and I sat 
eight or ten steps from them, and talked about killing 
them that night, and making our escape. I thought, 
from their looks and actions, that they were going to 
kill us; and, strange to say, felt no alarm. I thought 
I would rather die than go with them. The most of 
my trouble was, that my father and mother would be 
fretting after us — not knowing what had become of us. 
I expressed my thoughts to John, who went and began 
to talk with them. He said that father was cro^s to 
him, and made him work hard, and that he did not 
like hard work ; that he would rather be a hunter, and 
live in the woods. This seemed to please them ; for they 
put up their knives, and talked more lively and pleas- 
antly. We became very familiar, and many questions 
passed between us; all parties were very inquisitive. 



376 WESTERN AD VENTURE. 

They asked my brother which way home was several 
times, and he would tell them the contrary way every 
time, although he knew the way very well. This would 
make them laugh ; they thought we were lost, and that 
we knew no better. 

They conducted us over the Short Creek Hills in 
search of horses, but found none ; so we continued on 
foot until night, when we halted in a hollow, about 
three miles from Carpenter's Fort, and about four miles 
from the place where they first took us. Our route be- 
ing somewhat circuitous, we made but slow progress. 
As night began to close in, I became fretful. My 
brother encouraged me, by whispering that he would 
kill them that night. After they had selected the place 
of our encampment, one of them scouted round, whilst 
the other struck fire, which was done by stopping the 
touch-hole of his gun, and flashing powder in the pan. 
After the Indian got the fire kindled, he re-primed the 
gun, and went to an old stump to get some tinder wood; 
and, while he was thus employed, my brother John took 
the gun, cocked it, and was about to shoot the Indian. 
Alarmed, lest the other might be close by, I remon- 
strated, and, taking hold of the gun, prevented him 
shooting ; at the same time I begged him to wait till 
night, and I would help him kill them both. The other 
Indian came back about dark, when we took our supper, 
such as it was — some corn parched on the coals, and 
some roasted pork. We then sat down and talked for 
some time. They seemed to be acquainted with the whole 
border settlement, from Marietta to Beaver, and could 
number every fort and block-house, and asked my 
brother how many fighting men there were in each 
place, and how many guns. In some places, my brother 
said, there were a good many more guns than there 
were fighting men. They asked what use were these 
guns. He said that the women could load while the 
men fired. But how did these guns get there? My 
brother said, when the war was over with Great Britain, 
the soldiers that were enlisted during the war were 
discharged, and they left a great many of their guns at 
the stations. They asked my brother who owned that 



THE TWO JOHNSON BOYS. 377 

black horse that wore a bell. He answered, father. 
They then said the Indians could never catch that 
horse. 

We then went to bed on the naked ground, to rest and 
study out the best mode of attack. They put us be- 
tween them, that they might be the better able to guard 
us. After a while, one of the Indians, supposing we 
were asleep, got up and stretched himself on the other 
side of the fire, and soon began to snore. John, who 
had been watching every motion, found they were 
sound asleep. He whispered to me to get up, which 
we did as carefully as possible. John took the gun 
with which the Indian had struck fire, cocked it, and 
placed it in the direction of the head of one of the 
Indians. He then took a tomahawk, and drew it over 
the head of the other Indian. I pulled the trigger, 
and he struck at the same instant; the blow, falling 
too far back on the neck, only stunned the Indian. 
He attempted to spring to his feet, uttering most 
hideous yells, but my brother repeated the blows with 
such effect that the conflict became terrible, and some- 
what doubtful. The Indian, however, w r as forced to 
yield to the blows he received on his head, and, in a 
short time, he lay quiet at our feet. The one that was 
shot never moved ; and, fearing there w T ere others close 
by, we hurried off, and took nothing with us but the 
gun I shot with. They had told us we would see In- 
dians about to-morrow, so we thought that there w r as a 
camp of Indians close by; and fearing the report of 
the gun, the Indian hallooing, and I calling to John, 
might bring them upon us, we took our course toward 
the river, and, on going about three-fourths of a mile, 
came to a path which led to Carpenter's Fort. My 
brother here hung up his hat, that he might know 
where to take off to find the camp. 

We got to the fort a little before day -break. We 
related our adventure, and, the next day, a small party 
went out with my brother, and found the Indian that 
was tomahawked on the ground; the other had crawled 
off, and was not found till some time after. He was 
shot through, close by the ear. 



378 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

Having concluded this narrative, I will give a de- 
scription of the two Indians. They were of the Dela- 
ware tribe, and one of them a chief. He wore the 
badges of his office — the wampum belt, three half- 
moons, and a silver plate on his breast ; bands of silver 
on both arms, and his ears cut round and ornamented 
with silver ; the hair, on the top of his head, was done 
up with silver wire. The other Indian seemed to be 
a kind of waiter. He was rather under size, a plain 
man. He wore a fine beaver-hat, with a hole shot 
through the crown. My brother asked him about the 
hat. He said he killed a captain, and got his hat. My 
brother asked him if he had killed many of the whites, 
and he answered, a good many. He then asked him 
if the big Indian had killed many of the whites, and he 
answered, a great many, and that he was a great cap- 
tain — a chief. ........ 

[Signed] Henry Johnson. 

In connection with the above, and to still farther 
show of what material the boys were made in the 
great heroic age of the West, we give the following, 
which we find in a recent communication from Major 
Nye, of Ohio. The scene of adventure was within the 
present limits of Wood County, Virginia: 

" I have heard, from Mr. Guthrie and others, that, 
at Bellville, a man had a son, quite a youth, say twelve 
or fourteen years of age, who had been used to firing 
his father's gun, as most boys did in those days. He 
heard, he supposed, turkeys on or near the bank of the 
Ohio, opposite that place, and asked his father to let 
him take the gun and kill one. His father, knowing 
that the Indians frequently decoyed people by such 
noises, refused, saying it was probably an Indian. 
When he had gone to work, the boy took the gun and 
paddled his canoe over the river, but had the precau- 
tion to land some distance from where he had heard 
the turkey all the morning, probably for fear of scar- 
ing the game, and perhaps a little afraid of Indians. 
The banks were steep, and the boy cautiously advanced 
to where he could see without being seen. Watching 



CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 379 

awhile for bis game, he happened to see an Indian 
cautiously looking over a log, to notice where the boy 
had landed. The lad fixed his gun at a rest, watching 
the place where he had seen the Indian's head, and 
when it appeared again, fired, and the Indian disap- 
peared. The boy dropped the gun and ran for his 
canoe, which he paddled over the river as soon as 
possible. When he reached home, he said, 'Mother, 
I have killed an Indian!' and the mother replied, 
"No, you have not.' 'Yes, I have,' said the boy. 
The father coming in, he made the same report to 
him, and received the same reply; but he constantly 
affirmed it was even so ; and, as the gun was left, a 
party took the boy over the river to find it, and show 
the place where he shot the Indian, and, behold, his 
words were found verified. The ball had entered the 
head, where the* boy had affirmed he shot, between 
the eye and ear." 

Such " boys" made the men of the Eepublic in after 
years — men w r hom neither tyranny nor oppression could 
subdue. 



CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 

Of the many brave spirits who started into existence 
at the first drum- tap of the Revolution, but few have 
become better known or more respected, in the West, 
than the gallant Brady, captain of the spies. At a 
very early age, this devoted partisan gave indications 
of future usefulness; exhibiting, in all his movements, 
a spirit and a purpose to do and dare which marked 
him as a man of no ordinary character, and proved 
him fit for almost any emergency. 

Brady was emphatically the Marion of the West. 
Like the Chevalier Bayard, he was "without fear and 
without reproach." A bolder or braver man never 
drew a sword or fired a rifle; and these marked 
elements of his nature rendered him the terror of the 
Indian warrior, whether on the scout or in the wigwam, 



380 WESTEBN ADVENTURE. 

for lie felt himself alike insecure from the noiseless 
vengeance of the "leader of the spies." No man 
stood higher in the esteem of the hardy settlers, and 
no name could inspire more of confidence and of safety 
than that of Samuel Brady. During the whole of the 
fierce, protracted, and sanguinary war, which ravaged 
the frontier settlements of Virginia and Pennsylvania, 
from 1785 to 1794, no man could so quiet the trembling 
and fear-stricken settlers as Captain Brady. His pres- 
ence, backed by the band of devoted followers who 
always stepped in his foot-prints, was felt as security 
every-where. The fond mother, who, in after years, 
related to her children the many thrilling incidents of 
frontier life which she witnessed and passed through, 
never failed, as she thanked her Heavenly Father for 
having protected her little innocents from the scalping- 
knife and tomahawk, to express her heartfelt gratitude 
to him who had been the instrumentality of saving her 
all from savage barbarity. 

Samuel Brady w r as born at Shippensburgh, Pennsyl- 
vania, in 1756. His father, John Brady, was made a 
captain in the Colonial arm)'-, for his services in the 
old French and Indian wars. The family, at an early 
day, moved to the Susquehanna. On the breaking 
out of the Revolution, Samuel joined a volunteer com- 
pany, and' marched to Boston. The patriotic fervor of 
the youth, prompted the commander to offer young 
Brady a commission ; but his father objected, thinking 
he was too young, saying, " First let him learn the du- 
ties of a soldier, and then he will better know how to 
act as an officer." 

"In 1776, Samuel Brady was appointed a first lieu- 
tenant. He continued with the army, and was in all the 
principal engagements, until after the battle of Mon- 
mouth, when he was promoted to a captaincy, and 
ordered to the West, under Colonel Brodhead. On 
their march, he had leave to visit his friends in 
Northumberland County. His father, in 1776, had 
accepted a captaincy in the twelfth Pennsylvania 
regiment, been badly wounded at the battle of Brandy- 
wine, and was then at home. Whilst there, he heard 



CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 381 

of his brother's death, who had been murdered by the 
Indians, on the ninth of August, 1778. He remained 
at home until 1779, and then rejoined his regiment at 
Pittsburgh. During the same year, his father was 
murdered by the Indians; and then it was that our 
hero swore vengeance against the whole race. Terribly, 
too, did he keep that vow." 

In 1781, the Indians became very troublesome in the 
settlements above Pittsburgh. Washington, as we have 
elsewhere noticed, knew very well that the only guar- 
anty of safety was to strike the enemy at home. With 
this view, he directed Colonel Brodhead to send some 
suitable person to their towns, who could ascertain 
their strength^resources, etc. Colonel Brodhead's keen 
military eye saw in Brady the very man for the service, 
and giving him the necessary instructions, the gallant 
soldier started on his perilous mission, accompanied by 
John Williamson and one of the Wetzels. These men 
were so completely disguised as Indians, that it would 
almost have defied the skill and cunning of a genuine 
chief to detect the deception. 

After a hurried march, they reached the Indian town at 
Upper Sandusky, shortly alter dark. Brady posted his 
men, then entered the town, and after a thorough recon- 
noiter, rejoined his companions, and commenced a rapid 
retreat. His keen eye had caught a lurking suspicion 
in some of those whom he met, and it was deemed im- 
portant to get beyond their reach as rapidly as possible. 

With scarcely a moment's intermission, the three 
traveled all night, and stopping a few minutes in the 
morning, discovered the Indians were in pursuit. In- 
creasing their movements, and adopting the precaution 
of traveling upon logs, and avoiding direct routes, the 
trio were soon beyond immediate danger. The remain- 
der of that day, all of that night, and part of the 
third day, passed without any cause of apprehension. 
Fatigued and hungry (their sole diet since leaving 
home having been parched corn and jerked venison), 
the party concluded to take a rest. Williamson stood 
guard while the others slept. Brady, at all times a 
great snorer, on this occasion gave vent to sounds that, 



382 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

in the language of Williamson, " were enough to alarm 
all the Indians between here and Sandusky." Think- 
ing a change of position might stop the nasal artillery, 
Williamson turned Brady, and then resumed his seat 
by the fire. Scarcely had he seated himself, when he 
detected the stealthy tread of a savage. Looking atten- 
tatively in the direction of the sound, he saw an Indian 
cautiously approach, and waiting until he came nearly 
up, the guard took steady aim and fired. One con- 
vulsive spring, a heavy fall, and deep groan, were all 
that could be seen or heard. His companions sprang 
to their feet and moved rapidly off, to avoid an attack ; 
but this was the only Indian, and the three traveled on 
without further attempt at molestation. According to 
the account furnished by one of the family, of which 
we shall have occasion frequently to avail ourselves 
during this notice — 

"The map furnished by General Brodhead was found 
to be defective. The distance was represented to be 
much less than it really was. The provisions and am- 
munition of the men were exhausted by the time they 
had reached the Big Beaver, on their return. Brady 
shot an otter, but could not eat it. The last load was 
in his rifle. They arrived at an old encampment, and 
found plenty of strawberries, which they stopped to 
appease their hunger with. Having discovered a deer- 
track, Brady followed it, telling the men he would per- 
haps get a shot at it. He had gone but a few rods, 
when he saw the deer standing broadside to him. He 
raised his rifle and attempted to fire, but it flashed in 
the pan. He sat down, picked the touch-hole, and 
then started on. After going a short distance, the path 
made a bend, and he saw before him a large Indian on 
horse-back, with a child before, and its mother behind, 
and a number of warriors marching in the rear. His 
first impulse was to shoot the Indian on horseback; 
but, as he raised the rifle, he observed the child's head 
to roll with the motion of the horse. It was fast asleep, 
and tied to the Indian. He stepped behind the root of 
a tree, and waited until he could shoot the Indian, with- 
out danger to the child or its mother. 



CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 383 

"When he considered the chance certain, he fired, 
and the Indian, child, and mother, all fell from the 
horse. Brady called to his men, with a voice that made 
the forest ring, to surround the Indians, and give them 
a general fire. He sprang to the fallen Indian's powder- 
horn, but could not pull it off. Being dressed like an 
Indian, the woman thought he was one, and said, 'Why- 
did you shoot your brother? ' He caught up the child, 
saying, 'Jenny Stoop, I am Captain Brady; follow me, 
and 1 will secure you and your child.' He caught her 
hand in his, carrying the child under the other arm, 
and dashed into the brush. Many guns were fired at 
him, but no ball touched, and the Indians, dreading an 
ambuscade, were olad to make off. The next day he 
arrived at Fort M'Intosh, with the woman and her child. 
His men had got there before him. They had heard his 
war-whoop, and knew they were Indians he had en- 
countered, but having no ammunition, had taken to 
their heels and run off." 

"The. incursions of the Indians had become so 'fre- 
quent, and their outrages so alarming, that it was 
thought advisable to retaliate upon them the injuries 
of war, and to carry into the country occupied by them 
the same system with which they had visited the settle- 
ments. For this purpose an adequate force was pro- 
vided, under the immediate command of General Brod- 
head, the command of the advance guard of which was 
confided to Captain Brady. 

" The troops proceeded up the Alleghany Eiver, and 
had arrived near the mouth of Kedbank Creek, now 
known by the name of Brady's Bend, without encounter- 
ing an enemy. Brady and his rangers were some dis- 
tance in front of the main body, as their duty required, 
w T hen they suddenly discovered a war-party of Indians 
approaching them. Relying on the strength of the 
main body, and its ability to force the Indians to re- 
treat, and anticipating, as Napoleon did in the battle 
with the Mamelukes, that, when driven back, they 
would return by the same route they had advanced on, 
Brady permitted them to proceed without hinderance, 
and hastened to seize a narrow pass, higher up the 
34 



384 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

river, where the rocks, nearly perpendicular, approached 
the river, and a few determined men might successfully 
combat superior numbers." 

In a short time the Indians encountered the main 
body under Brodhead, and were driven back. In full 
and swift retreat they pressed on to gain the pass be- 
tween the rocks and the river, but it was occupied by 
Brady and his rangers, who failed not to pour into 
their flying columns a most destructive fire. Many 
were killed on the bank, and many more in the stream. 
Cornplanter, afterward the distinguished chief of the 
Senecas, but then a young man, saved himself by 
swimming. The celebrated war-chief of this tribe, 
Bald-Eagle, was of the number slain on this occasion. 

"The army moved onward, and after destroying all 
the Indians' corn, and ravaging the Kenjua Flats, re- 
turned to Pittsburgh. 

" Shortly after Captain Brady's return from San- 
dusky, he was observed one evening, by a man of the 
name of Phouts, sitting in a solitary part of the fort, 
apparently absorbed in thought. Phouts approached 
him, pained, to the bottom of his honest heart, to per- 
ceive that the countenance of Brady bore traces of care 
and melancholy. He accosted him, however, in the 
best English he had, and soothingly said, ' Gabtain, 
was ails you?' Brady looked at him a short time with- 
out speaking; then, resuming his usual equanimity, 
replied, ' I have been thinking about the red-skins, and 
it is my opinion there are some above us on the river. 
I have a mind to pay them a visit. Now, if I get per- 
mission to do so, will you go along?' Phouts was a 
stout, thick Dutchman, of uncommon strength and ac- 
tivity. He was also well acquainted with the woods. 
When Brady had ceased speaking, Phouts raised him- 
self on tiptoe, and bringing his heels hard down on the 
ground, by way of emphasis, his eyes full of fire, said, 
' By dunder und lightnin, I would rader go mit you, 
Gabtain, as to any of te finest weddins in this guntry.' 
Brady told him to keep quiet, and say nothing about 
it, as no man in the fort must know any thing of the 
expedition but General Brodhead. Bidding Phouts 






CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 385 

to call at his tent in an hour, he then went to the 
general's quarters, whom he found reading. After the 
usual topics were discussed, Brady proposed, for con- 
sideration, his project of ascending the Alleghany, with 
but one man in company; stating his reasons for appre- 
hending a descent, from that quarter, by the Indians. 
The general gave his consent ; at parting took him by 
the hand in a friendly manner, advising him how to 
proceed, and charging him particularly to be careful of 
his own life, and that of the men or man whom he 
might select to accompany him. So affectionate were 
the general's admonitions, and so great the emotion he 
displayed, that Brady left him with tears in Ms eyes, and 
repaired to his tent, where he found Phouts deep in 
conversation with one of his pet Indians. 

" He told Phouts of his success with the general, and 
that, as it was early in the light of the moon, they must 
get ready and be off betimes. 

"They immediately set about cleaning their guns, 
preparing their ammunition, and, having secured a 
small quantity of salt, lay down together and slept 
soundly until about tw T o hours before dnybreak. Brady 
awoke first, and stirring Phouts, each took down the 
1 deadly rifle,' and whilst all but the sentinels were 
wrapped in sleep, they left the little fort, and, in a 
short time, found themselves deep buried in the forest. 
That day they marched through woods never traversed 
by either of them before; following the general course 
of the river, they reached a small creek* that put in 
from the Pittsburgh side; it was near night when they 
got there, and having no provision, they concluded to 
remain there all night. 

" Next morning they started early, and traveled all 
day; in the evening they espied a number of crows 
hovering over the tops of the trees, near the bank of 
the river. Brady told Phouts that there were Indians 
in the neighborhood, or else the men who were expected 
from Susquehanna at Pittsburgh were there encamped, 
or had been some time before. 

* Probably Puckety Creek, which empties into the Alleghany 
at Logan's Ferry. 



386 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

" Phouts was anxious to go down and see, but Brady 
forbade him ; telling him at the same time, ' We must 
secrete ourselves till after night, when fires will be made 
by them, whoever they may be.' Accordingly, they hid 
themselves among fallen timber, and remained so till 
about ten o'clock at night. But even then they could 
still see no fire. Brady concluded there must be a hill 
or thick woods between him and where the crows were 
seen, and decided on leaving his hiding-place to ascer- 
tain the fact. Phouts accompanied him. They walked, 
with the utmost caution, down toward the river bank, 
and had gone about two hundred yards, when they 
observed the twinkling of a fire, at some distance on 
their right. They at first thought the river made a 
very short bend, but, on proceeding further, discovered 
that it was a fork or branch of the river, probably the 
Kiskeminetas. Brady desired Phouts to stay where he 
was, intending to go himself to the fire, and see who 
was there ; but Phouts refused, saying, 4 No, by George, 
I vill see too.' They approached the fire together, but 
with the utmost caution ; supposing it to be an Indian 
encampment, much too large to be attacked by them. 

" Resolved to ascertain the number of the enemy, 
Captain Brady and his brave comrade went close up 
to the fire, and discovered an old Indian sitting beside 
a tree near the fire, either mending or making a pair 
of moccasins., 

" Phouts, who never thought of danger, was for 
shooting the Indian immediately ; but Brady prevented 
him. After examining carefully around the camp, 
he was of opinion that the number by which it was 
made had been large, but that they were principally 
absent. He determined on knowing more in the morn- 
ing; and, forcing Phouts away, retired a short distance 
to await the approach of day. As soon as it appeared 
they returned to the camp, but saw nothing, except the 
old Indian, a dog, and a horse. 

" Brady Avished to see the country around the camp, 
and understand its features better; for this purpose he 
kept at some distance from it, and examined about, till 
he got ou the river above it. Here he found a large 



CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 387 

trail of Indians, who had gone up the Alleghany; to 
his judgment it appeared to have been made one or 
two days before. Upon seeing this, he concluded to go 
back to the camp and take the old Indian prisoner. 

" Supposing the old savage to have arms about him, 
and not wishing to run the risk of the alarm the report 
of a rifle might create, if Indians were in the neighbor- 
hood, Brady determined to seize the old fellow single- 
handed, without doing him further ' scath/ and carry 
him off to Pittsburgh. With this view, both crept to- 
ward the camp again, very cautiously. When they 
came so near as to perceive him, the Indian was lying 
on his back, with his head toward them. 

"Brady ordered Phouts to remain where he was, and 
not to fire, unless the dog should attempt to assist his 
master. In that case he was to shoot the dog, but by 
no means to hurt the Indian. The plan being arranged, 
Brady dropped his rifle, and, tomahawk in hand, 
silently crept tow r ard the old man, until within a few 
feet,- then raising himself up, he made a spring like a 
panther, and with a yell that awakened the echoes 
round, seized the Indian hard and fast by the throat. 
The old man struggled a little at first, but Brady's 
was the grip of a lion; holding his tomahawk over 
the head of his prisoner, he bade him surrender, as he 
valued his life. The dog behaved very civilly; he 
merely growled a little. Phouts came up, and they 
tied their prisoner. On examining the camp they found 
nothing of value, except some powder and lead, which 
they threw into the river. When the Indian learned that 
he was to be taken to Pittsburgh, and would be kindly 
treated, he showed them a canoe, which they stepped 
into with their prisoner and his dog, and were soon 
afloat on the Alleghany. They paddled swiftly along, 
for the purpose of reaching the mouth of the run on 
which they had encamped coming up, for Brady had 
left his wiping-rod there. It was late when they got to 
the creek's mouth. They landed, made a fire, and all 
laid down. 

" As soon as daylight appeared, the captain started 
to where they left some jerk hanging on the evening 



388 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

before, leaving Phouts in charge of the prisoner and 
his canoe. He had not left the camp long, till the In- 
dian complained to Phouts that the cords upon his 
wrists hurt him. He had probably discovered that in 
Phouts' composition there was a much larger propor- 
tion of kindness than of fear. The Dutchman at once 
took off the cords, and the Indian was, or pretended 
to be, very grateful. Phouts. was busied with some- 
thing else in a minute, and had left his gun standing 
by a tree. The moment the Indian saw that the eye 
of the other was not upon him, he sprang to the tree, 
seized the gun, and the first Phouts knew was that it 
was cocked and at his breast. The trigger was pulled, 
but the bullet whistled harmless past him, taking with 
it a part of his shot-pouch belt. One stroke of the 
Dutchman's tomahawk settled the Indian forever, and 
nearly severed the head from his body. 

"Brady heard the report of the rifle, and the yell of 
Phouts ; and supposing all was not right, ran instantly 
to the spot, where he found the latter sitting on the 
body of the Indian, examining the rent. in his shot- 
pouch belt. 'In the name of Heaven,' said Brady, 
' what have you done?' ' Yust look, Gabtain,' said 
the fearless Dutchman, 'vat dis d — d black b — h vas 
apout;' holding up to view the hole in his belt. He 
then related what has been stated with respect to his 
untying the Indian, and the attempt of the latter to 
kill him. They then took off the scalp of the Indian, 
got their canoe, took in the Indian's dog, and returned 
to Pittsburgh the fourth day after their departure." 

Beaver Valley was' the scene of many of Captain 
Brady's stirring adventures. We have recently visited 
some of the interesting localities, celebrated as Brady's 
theater of action, and heard from many of the older 
citizens their accounts of his thrilling exploits. They 
spaak in unbounded terms of admiration of his daring 
and success; his many hair-breath escapes by "field 
and flood ; " and always concluded by declaring that 
he was a greater man than Daniel Boone or Lewis 
Wetzel, either of whom, in the eyes of the old pioneers, 
was the very embodiment of dare-devilism. 






CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY, 389 

The following, illustrating one of Brady's adventures 
in the region referred to, we give from a published 
source. In one of his trapping and hunting excursions, 
he was surprised and taken prisoner by a party of In- 
dians who had closely watched his movements. 

"To have shot or tomahawked him would have been 
but a small gratification to that of satiating their re- 
venge by burning him at a slow fire, in the presence 
of all the Indians of their village. He was therefore 
taken alive to their encampment, on the west bank of 
the Beaver River, about a mile and a half from its 
mouth. After the usual exultations and rejoicings at 
the capture of a noted enemy, and causing him to run 
the gauntlet, a fire Avas prepared, near which Brady 
was placed after being stripped, and with his arms un- 
bound. Previous to tying him to the stake, a large 
circle was formed around, of Indian men, women, and 
children, dancing and yelling, and uttering all manner 
of threats and abuses that their small knowledge of 
the English language could afford. The prisoner looked 
on these preparations for death and on his savage foe 
with a firm countenance and a steady eye, meeting all 
their threats with truly savage fortitude. In the midst 
of their dancing and rejoicing, a squaw of one of their 
chiefs came near him with a child in her arms. Quick 
as thought, and with intuitive prescience, he snatched 
it from her and threw it into the midst of the flames. 
Horror stricken at the sudden outrage, the Indians 
simultaneously rushed to rescue the infant from the 
fire. In the midst of this confusion, Brady darted 
from the circle, overturning all that came in his way, 
and rushed into the adjacent thicket, with the Indians 
yelling at his heels. He ascended the steep side of a 
hill amidst a shower of bullets, and darting down the 
opposite declivity, secreted himself in the deep ravines 
and laurel thickets th'at abound for several miles to the 
west. His knowledge of the country, and wonderful 
activity, enabled him to elude his enemies, and reach 
the settlements in safety." 

From one of Brady's old soldiers — one of the noble 
spies, who, in 1851, had not answered to the roll-call 



390 WESTERN ADVENTURE. 

of death — one who served with hira three years, during 
the most trying and eventful period of his life, we have 
gathered the facts of the following incident. On one 
of their scouting expeditions into the Indian country, 
the spies, consisting at that time of sixteen men, en- 
camped for the night at a place called "Big Shell 
Camp." Toward morning, one of the guard heard the 
report of a gun, and immediately communicating the 
fact to his commander, a change of position was 
ordered. Leading his men to an elevated point, the 
Indian camp was discovered almost beneath them. 
Cautiously advancing in the direction of the camp, six 
Indians were discovered standing around the fire, while 
several others lay upon the ground, apparently asleep. 
Brady ordered his men to wrap themselves in their 
blankets and lie down, while he kept watch. Two 
hours thus passed without any thing materially occur- 
ring. As day began to appear, Brady roused his men 
and posted them side by side, himself at the end of 
the line. When all were in readiness, the commander 
was to touch, with his elbow, the man who stood next 
to him, and the communication was to pass success- 
ively to the farthest end. The orders then were, the 
moment the last man was touched, he should fire, which 
was to be the signal for a general discharge. With the 
first faint ray of light rose six Indians, and stood around 
the fire. With breathless expectation the whites waited 
for the remainder to rise, but failing, and apprehending 
a discovery, the captain moved his elbow, and the next 
instant the wild wood rang with the shrill report of 
the rifles of the spies. Five of the six Indians fell 
dead, but the sixth, screened by a tree, escaped. The 
camp being large, it was deemed unsafe to attack it 
further, and a retreat was immediately ordered. 

Soon after the above occurence, in returning from a 
similar expedition, and when about two miles from the 
mouth of Yellow Creek, at a place admirably adapted 
for an ambuscade, a solitary Indian stepped forward 
and fired upon the advancing company. Instantly, on 
firing, he retreated toward a deep ravine, into which 
the savage hoped to lead his pursuers. But Brady 






CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY. 391 

detected the trick, and, in a voice of thunder, ordered 
his men to tree. No sooner had this been done, than 
the concealed foe rushed forth in great numbers, and 
opened upon the whites a perfect storm of leaden hail. 
The brave spies returned the fire with spirit and effect ; 
but as they were likely to be overpowered by superior 
numbers, a retreat was ordered to the top of the hill, 
and thence continued until out of danger. 

The whites lost one man in this engagement, and 
two wounded. The Indian loss is supposed to have 
been about twenty, in killed and wounded. 

Captain Brady possessed all the elements of a brave 
and successful soldier. Like Marion, "he consulted 
with his men respectfully, heard them patiently, 
weighed their suggestions, and silently approached his 
own conclusions. They knew his determination only 
by his actions." Brady had but few superiors as a 
woodman: he would strike out into the heart of the 
wilderness, and, with no guide but the sun by day, and 
the stars by night, or in their absence, then by such 
natural marks as the bark and tops of trees, he would 
move on steadily in a direct line toward his point of 
destination. He always avoided beaten paths and the 
borders of streams, and never was known to leave his 
track behind him. In this manner he eluded pursuit, 
and defied detection. He was often vainly hunted by 
his own men, and was more likely to find them than 
they him. 

Such was Brady, the leader of the spies. 



THE END. 

35 



INDEX 



PA6B 

Adoption, manner of Indian... 19 
Adventures of — 

Col. Jas. Smith 13 

Daniel Boone 45 

Simon Kenton 87 

Gen. Benjamin Logan 118 

Col. Wm. Crawford 128 

Dr. Knight 128 

John Slover 145 

Capt. Eobert Benham 159 

Alexander McConnel 161 

Rob't and Sam'l McAfee... 164 

Bryant and Hogan 167 

McKinley 169 

David Morgan 171 

Andrew Poe 174 

Mrs. Woods 180 

Davis, Caffree and Mc- 

Clure 181 

Capt. James Ward 185 

Francis Downing 187 

The Widow Shanks 189 

A Wild White Man 193 

Mrs. John Merril 197 

Charles Ward, Calvin and 

Kenton 199 

James Ward, Baker and 

Kenton 205 

May, Johnston, Flinn and 

Skyles 207 

Capt. William Hubbell 243 

Jackson Johonnet 255 

William Kennan 270 

Lieut. Col. Darke 276 

Private Miller 281 

Two Johnson boys 286, 374 

Robinson 293 

Lewis Wetzel 335 

Jacob Wetzel 337 

John Wetzel 355 

Kinzie Dickerson 357 

Maj. Sam. McColloch 362 

John McColloch 369 

Boys Wetzel and Erlewyne.371 
Capt. Sam. Brady 379 



Aiken, death of. 256 

Arbuckle, Capt 301 

Armstrong, Capt., sent against 
the Indians 253 

Baker 205 

Baker's Station 337 

Bald Eagle, murder of. 292 

Bear, Indian fight with 189 

entrapped 315 

Bell, used by Indians as a de- 
coy 371 

Benham, Robert, adventure 

of 159 

Big Foot, death of the Indian. .178 

Biggs, Thomas, death of. 357 

Blackfish, Indian chief. 103 

Blue Licks, battle of. 76 

capture of salt party at 54 

Boats attacked 211, 216, 217 

245, 246 
Boone, Daniel, adventures of.. 45 

starts for Kentucky 46 

captured by Indians 47 

family start for Kentucky.. 50 

death of eldest son 50 

capture of daughter 53 

captured at Blue Licks 54 

ransom refused for 55 

escape of 56 

Paint Creek expedition 59 

death of his brother 61 

memoirs of himself. 85 

moves to Louisiana 85 

Boonesborough, first attack on. 52 

again attacked 53, 54, 57 

nine days' siege of 60 

Bowman, Col., arrival of. 54 

expedition 121 

Boys, captivity of two 371 

bravery of... 248, 286, 371, 374 
Braddock's defeat, incidents 

of. 17 

army, slaughter of 296 

Brady, John 380, 381 

(393) 



394 



INDEX. 



PAGK 

Brady, Capt. Samuel 379 

stratagem 383 

and Phouts' expedition 384 

captures an Indian 387 

capture and escape 389 

Breckinridge, Dr. Robert J... xxiii 
Briscoe, Dr., exploring party of 91 

British regulars burned 18 

Brodhead, Col., ordered West,.380 
Brooks,William, aids Hubbell.249 
Bryant's station, attack on. 66, 70 
Bryant, Wm., settles a sta- 
tion 166,168 

Bullitt, Capt 92 

Butler, Clarke, Patterson, Ma- 
jors 264, 303 

Butler, Major-General under 
St. Clair 264, 306 

Cabin built by Kenton 93 

Calloway, Misses, capture of.. 53 

Calvin, Spencer 199 

Calvin, Luther, Capt 199 

Campaigns compared 309 

Campbell, Capt., British com- 
mandant, 284 

Camp Union 295 

Catawba Indians, cunning of.. 22 

Catfish, large, caught 370 

Chickatommo, chief, fate of.. ..241 
Chillicothe, Indian town of.55, 56 

Christian, Col 295 

Clark, Col. George Rogers, ex- 
pedition of 83, 353 

Clark, Major 305 

Collins, Judge Lewis xxi 

Coon-hunt, incidents of 32 

Cornplanter 384 

Cornstalk's resignation 302 

Courtship, Indian 21 

Cowardly actions 199, 200, 203 

Crawford, Col. William, ad- 
ventures 128 

Cresap, Cant., murders Logan's 
family* 92 

Dances, Indian 315 

Darke, Lieut. Col 265, 303 

Delzel, Capt 331 

Denton, Mrs 52 

Devine 213 

Dickerson, Kinzie, escape of.. .357 
Dickerson, Veach 345 



Downing, Francis, adventure.,187 

Dream and its cause 225 

of Mclntyre 203, 204 

Duchouquet ransoms Johnston 228 

Dunlap, Mrs., escape 164 

Dunmore's expedition 295 

Du Quesne, Fort, erected 13 

Du Quesne, Capt 58 

Dutchman, named Jacob 372 

Dutchman, named Phouts 384 

Edwards, Col 192 

Emigrants being decoyed 208 

Erlewyne, Fred'k, capture of..371 

Estill's station 62 

Estill, Capt., defeat 64 

Expedition of 

Col. Bowman 121 

Col. George Rogers Clark... 83 
Crawford 128 

Female, captive, released 353 

courage, 67, 180, 191, 198 

Ferguson, Maj 306, 264, 304 

Fields, Col. John 295 

Findley, little known of 45 

First explorer of Kentucky 14 

white woman in Kentucky 52 

house in interior of Ky 52 

Fitzpatrick, found by Kenton. 94 

Fleming, Misses, two sisters. ..207 

21 1 240 

Col. William .'.295 

Flinn 207, 230 

Forbes, Gen., advance of. 31 

Ford, Capt 305 

Fort, British, destruction of.. .284 

Defiance 285 

at Detroit 327, 331 

Harmer 345 

Holliday 367 

Mcintosh 383 

Pitt 90 

at Point Pleasant 301 

Recovery 279 

Van Metre 368 

Washington..285, 278, 252, 263 
Fowler, Major 350 

Gaither, Bedinger, Majors.265,303 

Gilmore killed 302 

Girty, James, advice of.. .107, 184 
Simon 62, 71, 363 



INDEX. 



395 



PAGE 

Girty, Simon, pleads for Ken- 
ton 109 

Gladwyn, Major 327 

Glenn, Thomas, escape of 364 

Graham, Lieut 332 

Grant, companion of Bryant...l68 

and Lewis, quarrel 297 

Greathouse, Jacob 89 

Capt., whipped to death 246,250 
Greaton, Capt , 305 

Habeas Corpus,Wetzel released 

by 351 

Hartshorn, Lieut., escape 253 

Hamilton, Gov. of Canada 363 

Hardin, Col., and militia 253 

Harland, Major 76 

Harmer, Gen., sent against In- 
dian villages 252, 344 

expedition, result of 255 

Harrison, Col., death of 150 

Harrod, Jas., settles Harrods- 

burgh 52 

Harrodsburgh, attack on 53 

Hart and* Clark, Majors 306 

Heart of Maj. McColloch eaten370 

Hedges, Joseph, death of 357 

Hendricks, found by Kenton 94, 95 

Herochche's address 324 

Hog, killed by Indians 372 

causes death of 3 Indians..372 
Hogan, Mrs 52 

James 167 

Holder, Capt., defeat of 66 

Horses, race after wild 26 

Hough, John, escape of...357, 358 

Hoy's station 65 

Hubbell, Capt. Wm 243, 245 

Human sacrifices common 35 

Indian town, Tallihas 18 

adoption, manner of 19 

courtship 21 

custom, to invite visitors to 

eat 21 

pastimes 24 

hospitality of . 25 

endurance of. 25 

discipline with children 27 

punishment of children 27 

deserted by squaw 28 

superstition of. 28 

conjuror 29 



PAOK 

Indian medicine man 29 

military principles of 30 

sagacity of. 30 

contempt for book-learning 31 

woodcraft with 31 

fondness for rum 34 

drunken revels of. 34 

religion of 35 

theology, beautiful 35 

sweating house of 41 

mining by 58 

destruction of villages 84 

Chief Blackfish 103 

fight with a bear 189 

humane action of 213 

booty captured by 218 

war-dance 225 

manners (the chase) 310 

shot in time of peace 345 

capture of, by Brady 387 

Indian race, destiny of xiii 

Indians, preparations for an 

encounter 215 

noble conduct of 240 

incident of three brothers. .286 
eat heart of McColloch 370 

Johnson boys, capture of the 

two 374 

Henry, letter of 374 

companion of Kenton 89 

Johnston, -Charles.. ..207, 212, 230 
Johonnet, Jackson, adventure.255 

Kennan, Wm., escape 270 

heroic act of. 274 

Kennedy , Mrs. Mary, a prisoner 107 

Kenton, Simon. ..87, 199, 205, 360 

adventure with his rival-.. 87 

changes name to Butler 89 

travels with Johnson 89 

at Big Bone in 1774 92 

cabin built by 93 

on a secret mission 97 

capture of. 101 

tortured 104 

runs the gauntlet 104 

attempted escape 106 

finds a friend 108 

rescued by Drewyer ...113 

taken to Detroit 114 

escapes, with others 115 

death of 117 



396 



INDEX. 



PAGE 

Kentucky, tribute to xii 

bravery of. xii 

Colonization society xiii 

first explorer of 14 

Kerr, Hamilton, escape of 370 

shoots Indians 372 

Kilpatrick killed 243, 248 

Kirkwood, Capt 275 

Knight,Dr.,captured 128, 135, 141 

Leap of Major McColloch 368 

Lee, Hancock 92 

Gen. Henry, of Virginia.. ..277 

Leitchman, adventures of 87 

Lewis, Col. Charles 295, 297 

Lewis, Gen., with Duninore...295 

personal appearance 298 

battle with Indians 299 

Lewis, companion of Clark 355 

Lexington, house built in 61 

Light, Daniel 243 

Linn, Mr., death of. 357 

Little Turtle 275 

Logan, murder of family of.... 92 
benevolence towardKentonll3 

death 300 

Logan's Station, attack on. .53, 54 
Logan, Gen. Benj., adventures 118 

moves to Kentucky 118 

settles Logan's Station 119 

noble deed of 119 

expedition of. 121 

Madison, John, death of. 355 

Mahon, John 89 

Marshall, Col. Thomas 183 

Marshall, Capt. Thos., attacked 216 
Marshall, Dr. Louis, as a 

teacher v 

Marshall's school v 

Mason, Capt. Samuel, defeat 

of 364 

Masquerade before DuQuesne.. 30 
Master of life, Indian trust in 

the 321 

May, John, surveys lands 207 

McAfee, James 165 

Robert, adventure 165 

Samuel, adventure ...164 

Station, attack on 166 

McBride, Major 76 

McCleland, Colonel, supposed 

death 150 



PAGH 

McClung, John A 

birth and parentage v 

early education v 

studies theology vi 

marriage vi 

licensed to preach vi 

scholarship vii 

remarkable memory vii 

popularity as a preacher... vii 

wavers in his faith vii 

writes "Sketches of West- 
ern Adventure." vii 

writes " Camden," a novel. viii 

how he wrote viii 

retires from the ministry. ..viii 

studies law viii 

as a lawyer ix 

in the Kentucky Legisla- 
ture x 

speech on railroad bill x 

Railroad bank at Charles- 
ton xi 

withdraws from public life, xii 

speech on Colonization xiii 

seeks to prove the Scrip- 
tures untrue xvii 

and then seeks light xviii 

again joins the church xix 

at the water-cure xx 

re-licensed and ordained... xx 

synopsis of labors of xxi 

remarkable congregations. xxii 

is made a D. D xxii 

speech in General Assem- 
bly xxii 

striking effect of xxiii 

accepts a call to Mays- 

ville xxiii 

domestic habits of xxiv 

his daughter's tribute to.. xxiv 
familiar with the poets. ..xxiv 

success of his ministry xxv 

teacher of the Scriptures. .xxvi 
character of expositions...xxvi 

touching incident xxvii 

death of. xxviii 

family of xxviii 

personal appearance of..xxviii 

personal attributes xxix 

Mrs. Susan, sketch of v 

Miss Anna Maria xxv 

Miss Sue xxiv 

Mrs., death of xxviii 






INDEX. 



397 



PAGE 

McColloch, Abraham 362 

McColloch, John 362 

adventure of 369 

McColloch, Major Samuel 362 

adventure of 367, 369 

fearful leap of 368 

heart eaten by savages 370 

McCollough,Wm., escape.357, 358 
McConnell, Alex., adventure..! 61 

Hugh, escape of 364 

McGary, at Blue Licks 75, 80 

murders Indian chief. 127 

fight with Indians 166 

McGary, Mrs 52 

Mclntyre as spy 200 

Mclntyre, David 355 

McKee, Col., Indian agent 284 

McKintey, death of Capt 137 

McKinaey, fight with wild catl69 
McMahan, Maj., expedition of 339 

prevents massacre 346 

Memminger, Colonel, of South 

Carolina x, xii 

Merrill, John, attack on house 

of .-. 197 

Messhawa 215, 241 

kindness to Johnston 221 

saves lives of children 226 

Michillimackinac, massacre of. 333 
Miller, Lieut., at Estill's defeat 63 

Mills, Thomas, escape of. 370 

Mills, Thomas, death of 338 

Moluntha, murdered 127 

Montgomery, accompanies Ken- 
ton 97,102 

Morgan, David, combat with 
Indians 171 

Netherland, bravery of. 77 

Night attack upon Indians 201 

Nungany, Indian boy 35 

Oaths picked up by Indians. ..102 

O'Fallon, Major 315 

Ogle, Serg. Jacob, escape 364 

Capt. Joseph 362 

Oldham, Lieut. Col 306 

Paint Creek, defeat of Indians 57 

Patterson, Capt., escape of. 78 

Phouts, narrow escape of. 388 

Plascut, William 243, 248 



PAGE 

Poe, Adam 174 

Andrew,fight with Big Footl74 
Pontiac's conspiracy 330 

Railroad from Charleston to 

Cincinnati x 

Reynolds, Aaron, speech 72 

noble conduct of. 78 

Rodgers, Major, attacked 158 

Rogers, Major 332 

Robinson and Hellen, capture.293 
life saved by Logan 294 

Sackville, adventure 257, 261 

Schooner attacked by Pon- 

tiac 332 

Shelby, Capt. Isaac 300 

Shepherd, Wm., death of. 364 

Sheppard, Col. David 364 

Skyles, Jac, starts for Ky .207, 232 

at Indian village 234 

Slover, John, narrative of 145 

captive with the Indians. ..145 

in Crawford's defeat 145 

is captured 149 

saved by rain 154 

Smith, Col. James, adventures 13 

his head "picked " 17 

ears and nose bored 17 

ducked by squaws 18 

narrative of 44 

Smith, Henry, death of 370 

Station, Baker's 337 

Boonesborough or Boone's. 52 

Bryant's 66, 166 

Estill's 62 

Harrodsburgh or Harrod's. 52 

Hoy's 65 

Kelly's, on Kenawha 207 

Logan's 53, 54 

McAfee, attack on 166 

St. Clair's, Gen. A., expedition 263 

censure of. 269, 308 

treatment by Congress 270 

official letter 303 

Stoner, John ." 243, 248 

Strader 89, 91 

Stuart, John, captured by In- 
dians 47, 48 

Swearingen, Col. Andrew 367 

Sweating-house of Indian 41 

Symmes, Judge, grants habeas 
corpus 351 



398 



INDEX. 



Tecaughnetanego, ehief.30, 32, 35 
Theology, example of Indian. 35 

Thomas 213, 214 

Tobacco, Indian prayer for 42 

Todd, Levy, death of 76 

Todd, Rev. John vii 

Tomlinson, clearing of. 372 

Thompson, Wm. R. as a 

teacher v 

Tontileaugo, Indian warrior... 23 

Trigg, Col 76 

Tucker 243,248 

Turkey-call, used as decoy 342 



Van Metre's Fort. 



.368 



Washington, Gen., censured. ..277 
Washington, George, death of 

Indian 345 

Ward, Capt. Charles 199 

Ward, Capt. James 185 

boat of, attacked 185 

attack on Indians 205 

Ward, John 107, 204, 206 

Warrior,Chickasaw,activity of 274 
Wayne, An., incidents of..277, 278 

Wetzel, Jacob, capture of 337 

Wetzel, John, father of Lewis. 337 

adventures of 355, 359 

escape of 357, 358 

Wetzel, John, Jr., capture of 

and escape 371 

Wetzel, Lewis, adventures 

of. 335,340, 351 



PAGE 

Wetzel, Lewis, character of.. ..335 

Indian dread of 337 

capture of. 337 

kills three Indians.339,343, 351 

kills a turkey-caller 342 

custom of. 342 

kills another Indian. ..344, 345 
captured by Harmer's men. 347 

escape of 348 

released 349 

captured by Lawler 350 

petition for release 351 

imprisoned in New Orleans 353 

reply of to Mrs. Cookis 354 

fools an Indian 354 

death of. 354 

Wetzel, Martin, escape of 365 

Wheeling, first siege of 362 

White woman & child rescued..383 

Whittaker 238,241 

Wild cat, adventure with 169 

Wild white man, account of.. .193 

Williams, Isaac 372 

Wilson, Ensign, shot 276 

Worrall, Rev. John M xxviii 

Wood, Dr 92 

Wood, Mrs., defense of. 180 

Woods, Mrs. Hamilton 343 

Wyllys, Major, battle with In- 
dians 254 

Yager 89 

Yates, adventure of. ....187 




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